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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464117">We're the Ones (Who're Taking You Home)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaune_Chat/pseuds/Jaune_Chat'>Jaune_Chat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Gaslighting, M/M, Multi, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex Work, Threesome - M/M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:13:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaune_Chat/pseuds/Jaune_Chat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark wasn't expecting to find two starving, freezing hookers in an alley outside of one of his company galas, particularly not one sporting one of his company's prosthetics. And he wasn't intending to take them home. Certainly he wasn't planning on having them stay. But when Steve and Bucky start becoming more to him, and him to them, than either of them expected, it's only a matter of time before their pasts catch up with all of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>WIP Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We're the Ones (Who're Taking You Home)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for WIP Big Bang! Thanks to brighteyed-jill and princessoftheworlds for betaing, and Didi More for the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464126/">beautiful cover image!</a>  Go check it out and comment on how beautiful it is!  :D</p><p>This story takes place around 2009/2010, and same-sex marriage in New York wasn't legally recognized at that time (starting Dec 2 2009), though it had been passed (and then ruled against) several times in the preceding years (as of July of 2011, it <i>is</i> recognized). Also, Don't Ask, Don't Tell was still in use in the US Military at that time.</p><p>Content Warning Explanations at the end of the fic if you would like more detail before reading.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were times Tony wished he smoked.  That would have made an understandable excuse to duck out of events like this when the press of idiots became unbearable.  Tony could schmooze with the best of them, and better than the best of them when he was feeling it, but without enough social lubrication there were times he just couldn't stand one more inane question, one more investor that couldn't tell a bullet from a barnacle, one more person trying to throw themselves into his bed in hopes some of his glitter would rub off on them.</p><p>
  <i>Times when the press of people, the press of sparkling conversation, rang in his ears like an explosion and made his heart thud so hard it was impossible to believe other people couldn’t hear it.</i>
</p><p>There were times when that was fun, but not tonight, when the stupid quotient had been reached and exceeded by a factor of five four hours ago.  Pepper was going to yell at him for ducking out on the good-byes, but he'd make it up to her somehow.  Stark Industries had those contracts in the bag anyway, whether he wanted them or not.  Obi was in there pressing the flesh, and Tony had done his obligatory tour.  </p><p>
  <i>“…going to supply fifty thousand of those new Jericho missiles to your boys for a start, starting in two weeks.  Tony knows how to make them right, eh?” Obi said, shoulder to shoulder with some guy from military procurement, grinning at Tony and expecting his endorsement.  Tony knew that if he said what he really felt about Jericho missiles he’d end up having some kind of shouting match or meltdown right then and there, and nobody needed that, least of all him.  He just gave a facsimile of a smile and nodded vaguely.  Obi didn’t seem to care, or at least didn’t seem to notice, so at least Tony was spared his too-close scrutiny.</i>
</p><p>Anyways, the night had completely soured when the reporter, Everhart, had briefly cornered him.  Things had started off cute and flirtatious, but as soon as the crowd had shifted enough to leave them effectively alone, she’d switched from flirtation to fierce.</p><p>“…and what about your other nickname, the Merchant of Death?”</p><p>Normally Tony shrugged off things like that every day of the week and twice on the weekends.  He’d countered with pointed facts about the infrastructure investment, advanced seeds and farming equipment, medical breakthroughs that had all been powered with the money from government weapons’ contracts.  The usual spiel, and one that had yet to fail.</p><p>“So you slap a new leg on a soldier who got it blow off with one of your bombs and that makes up for everything?” Everhart had asked.</p><p>
  <i>The scent of sand and dust in his nostrils, cordite, gunpowder, hot metal, and blood.  A hot splash of blood across his skin as a human arm thudded into the dirt next to him, the sleeve nearly burned and abraded off. Incongruously his brain noted the tattoo on the bloody shoulder with photographic clarity, and then the fact that bone showed through where it had been blown from the owner’s body.  Someone screamed right in his ear.</i>
</p><p>Tony had exited the conversation abruptly and with little of his usual grace.  It had been just one more thing he couldn’t deal with, not tonight.</p><p>It had been over a year since that ambush in Afghanistan, a year since the attack had left most of the escort convoy dead but Tony miraculously unharmed.  People didn’t want to hear about it, not really, just the assurance that their favorite partying CEO was back in action to bring them amazing things and hilarious tabloid photos.  He’d tried for the amazing things, but so far the tabloids had been reduced to paparazzi snaps and Photoshop, along with blatant lies for the hilarious headlines, as he hadn’t given them anything good to use.</p><p>
  <i>His chest ached and he pawed at his shirt, ripping it to see that the vest he’d specifically designed to catch both bullets and Jericho missile shrapnel was still intact.  It was new, something he’d made for this trip, and he was the only one armored in it.  Muffled explosions still beat upon his ears, and he turned to see Rhodey on one of the heavy machine guns mounted on a Humvee, firing off into the distance.  He turned to see the soldier who’d dragged him from his own Humvee was lying dead, blank eyes staring at the sky and their chest a red ruin.  Beyond them, behind a boulder like where Tony had been deposited, someone was crouched over the man who’d gotten his arm blown off, applying a bandage.  In their haste, their head went a fraction too high above cover, and a bullet through their helmet dropped them limp onto the ground.</i>
</p><p>He looked down the alley and sighed into the cold, his breath making a fog in the freezing night air.  A few snowflakes drifted down as he texted Happy, letting him know where to bring the car, and started walking.  The cold was intense, but just about what he needed to clear his head.  The snow actually creaked under Tony's feet, and he vaguely recalled a few times Mom had hauled the family to upstate New York during Christmas, sledding down the hill and then taking the sled into the shed to fix it and make it go faster...</p><p>Thinking of Mom, of snow, helped, at least a tiny bit.</p><p>"It'll be okay, come on, stay with me.  Come on, stay awake Steve."</p><p>Tony was jerked out his reverie as he passed a dumpster.  Two men were huddled in the corner between the dumpster and the wall, a short, skinny blond man in a thin shirt, jacket, and painted-on leather pants, nearly blue with cold, and a taller, muscular, dark-haired man with a ponytail, skinny jeans, and a vest, arms wrapped around the blond and rubbing him to try to keep him from shivering.  With the vest, Tony could see a gleam of dark plastic and metal replacing the man's left arm, and near the back of the elbow-.</p><p>The swoosh of his company logo.  </p><p><i>Fuck</i>.  It was one of the prostheses Stark Industries had been giving to veterans coming home disabled from combat.  The ones he’d argued for, the ones Obi had finally backed down on and let happen because they made good optics.  Getting armor onto the soldiers to prevent that from happening in the first place was still an uphill struggle.  The government liked weapons more than armor, and tended to pay appropriately.  Tony was sure he could convince them otherwise, but he wasn’t going to be able to do it with Afghanistan ringing in his ears, not tonight.</p><p>“Steve, look at me, all right?  Snap out of it, man, come on.”  The dark-haired man hugged Steve, the blond, close, trying to impart as much body heat as he could, though how warm he could be in a vest, Tony had no idea.</p><p>“Hey,” Tony said, the word spilling out of him with no forethought.</p><p>Both started, too caught up in their own problems to have noticed him.  The dark-haired man turned, supporting Steve.  A complex expression crossed his face, desperation and anger bordering on rage, and a dash of bedroom eyes before settling into stiff deference.</p><p>“Sorry, sir.  Not tonight,” he said.</p><p>“Bucky, we don’t have anywhere to go…” Steve said, head lolling a bit.  He tried to take control of himself and managed a smile, cocking his hips within the support of Bucky’s arms.  He would have looked damn sexy, if he weren’t shivering hard enough for his teeth to clack together.</p><p>Tony could taste the hors d'oeuvres, pâté and risotto balls and crisp little twists of crab salad in a lettuce wrap, mingling with the champagne he’d had.  He felt the heat of the party soaking into his bespoke tuxedo so that he could feel warm enough to walk without a coat, knowing he’d be picked up at the end of the alley and taken home.</p><p>“Come on.  I’ve got a spare room,” Tony said.  What were the words coming out of his mouth?  </p><p>“…What?” the dark-haired man, Bucky, said.</p><p>“I’ve got a spare room.  I’ve got a lot of spare rooms.  Come on,” Tony said, making a beckoning gesture as he started to walk.  He could see Happy at the end of the alley, the car idling.  The wind picked up, moaning through the concrete valley, and Bucky winced at the increased chill.</p><p>“We’re not in any shape to pay, sorry,” he said.  He turned to Steve and tried to talk in a low voice, but the wind carried it to Tony’s ears anyway.  “We’ll go to the shelter, Sister Maria’s.”</p><p>“Too late, Buck.  Beds all gone this late,” Steve said, gasping a little at the cold.</p><p>“No strings,” Tony heard himself saying, his hand tightening around his phone.  “Just come get warm.”</p><p>The smaller kid, Steve, was skinny to a point that frankly alarmed Tony now that he’d gotten a longer look at him, and his breath wheezed in his lungs in a way that he didn’t like in the least.  Bucky was in better shape physically, but his eyes darted around as if expecting to be ambushed at any moment.  </p><p>
  <i>I know how you feel.</i>
</p><p>Tony gestured to his car, taking a few strides so he could open the door.  “Come on, I can get you guys out of the cold.”</p><p>Bucky looked between Tony, and the freezing, posturing Steve as if being asked to choose which child to sacrifice.</p><p>“Come on, Bucky.”  Steve tugged on Bucky’s right hand.  Bucky looked like he wanted to object, but looked over at Steve, his eyes glazing and looking sleepy.  That seemed to decide him and he abruptly nodded, plucking a battered canvas duffle bag from the ground and slinging it over his modified shoulder.  He relented to his friend’s tugging, following Steve into Tony’s limo.  He paused as Steve went in first, and hissed to Tony, “Let him warm up before you do anything.  I can take care of you until he’s ready to go.”</p><p>The look Bucky gave him, and the belated recognition that the tight, thin clothes were not just all they had, but meant to display their wares, hit Tony like a gut-punch.  Bucky ducked inside the car, and Tony followed automatically, sitting on the large backseat in a bit of a daze.  Steve curled up next to him, adorably small and vulnerable, with one cold hand already stroking the top of Tony’s thigh.  Bucky gave Tony a warning glance and started to go to his knees in front of Tony, lowering his eyes to show off his long lashes and hide whatever emotion was lurking there.</p><p>Happy, thank God, rolled down the dividing window before anything actually happened.</p><p>“Sir?”</p><p>“Back to the Tower, Happy.”</p><p>“Will do, boss.”  No judgment from Happy; he’d seen far wilder things in the backseat of this car over the years.  The window rolled up without further comment.</p><p>Tony touched Bucky’s shoulder before he could reach for Tony’s belt, feeling a pit in his stomach.  “Hey, no, you don’t need to do that.  Just… sit down.  Have something to drink.”  He waved at the minibar with enough verve to no-so-incidentally shift Steve’s hand from his leg.  “There’s some club soda and water in there.  Coffee too, over on the left.”  Plenty of booze as well, arranged in pretty rows, but between Steve’s borderline hypothermia and Bucky’s suspicion, Tony figured offering that would be in poor taste.</p><p>Bucky got up off the floor with the same lack of haste he’d dropped to it, and found the small coffee machine with a raised eyebrow and a shrug.  He made two cups, passing one to Steve, and didn’t even ask Tony if he wanted any.</p><p>Tony, with the taste of caviar and champagne lingering on his tongue, didn’t speak.  Instead he sent a message to JARVIS to get a guest suite ready, and tucked his phone back into his jacket pocket.</p><p>Steve held the hot cup with both hands, every trace of his posing gone as he reveled in the heat like a cat in a sunbeam.  He sipped cautiously and grinned at Bucky over the rim of the mug, a bright, happy smile that made Tony’s lips curve up a little in return.  Bucky looked downright delighted as Steve locked eyes with him, but as soon as Steve turned his attention back to his mug, Bucky turned freezing death glare on Tony.</p><p>The lights of the city played over the dark plastic and metal of Bucky’s prothesis.  </p><p>Tony sat back in his seat, putting a few inches of distance between him and Steve.  However determined Steve had seemed to “pay” for Tony’s offer of a room at first, the heat of the car and the coffee had reduced him to just reveling in the warmth, silently sipping as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.  Bucky got on the seat between Steve and the window, giving Steve a place to lean, his right arm curved around Steve’s waist possessively.</p><p>The trip back to the Tower seemed to take forever.  His phone buzzed with a text from Pepper, lightly scolding him for ducking out of the party early, to which he apologized promptly, and put an order through JARVIS to buy something nice off of her wish list.  Pepper texted back: ???</p><p>Understandable.</p><p>“Hey, um, there’s a guest suite for you guys when we get to the Tower.  It’s got a kitchen and all, and it’s stocked.  Or if you want something delivered, there’s a phone in there too.  Just ask to deliver to Stark Tower, and the guy at the desk’ll make sure it gets to you.”</p><p>Steve gave Tony a cheeky little grin, and Bucky just nodded. </p><p>“When do you want us ready by?”</p><p>His tone wasn’t quite flat, but not far from it.  And Tony didn’t have a good answer for them.  Shit, he didn’t have a good answer for <i>himself</i> about what the hell he was doing.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it.  Eat up, shower, get warm, go to bed, sleep until whenever.  I’ve got some stuff I gotta work on tomorrow.”  </p><p>Bucky kept his arm around Steve, shooting glances at Tony ever few seconds.  Tony kept his eyes on the window, watching the reflection of his two new houseguests.  </p><p>Tony was not a man who was ashamed of his wealth.  He didn’t feel guilty for sleeping on silk or spending a few thousand dollars on clothing he’d only wear for an hour.  He worked hard, he made what people wanted to buy, and they paid him handsomely for it.  He was good at designing weapons, and he liked being able to arm American soldiers, as everyone knew.  There was no shame in his lifestyle.  None.</p><p>He wasn’t the sort to pick up strays, not even if one of them was wearing his tech. </p><p>So what the hell was he doing?</p><p>
  <i>Tony’s head rang and chest ached from the impact of the shrapnel that had caught in his vest, and someone was screaming in the battered Humvee as it bounced over the rutted road. Maybe it was him, maybe one of the few other soldiers Rhodey had been able to save. The pararescue medic who’d managed to land at the botched ambush site was tending to the wounded, of which there were far too few. There had been a dozen vehicles in the convoy and from the single glimpse he’d gotten from the window, they were alone on the road. The driver was shouting into the radio, as Rhodey stood at the turret gun, ready to send off bursts of gunfire against whoever was trying to kill them…</i>
</p><p>Tony gave a tiny sigh of relief as the limo turned and angled down into the secure garage below the Tower, the abrupt change from the glaring lights breaking the memory before he could start to hyperventilate.</p><p>Happy pulled the limo up to the elevator door, and Tony damn near sprang out, followed by Steve (holding his half-empty coffee cup), and Bucky, who’d left his on the floor.  The luxurious elevator, with its smooth wooden walls, tasteful lighting, and generous proportions, suddenly seemed as small as a phone booth as all three men got inside.  Tony pressed himself against the far wall, while Bucky subtly blocked Steve from getting too close.  Bucky took in the elevator with a single glance, scowling when he saw the lack of visible buttons.</p><p>“JARVIS, guest suite,” Tony said.</p><p>The elevator ascended smoothly as Steve looked at Tony with a cocked eyebrow.  With the warmth of the coffee and the limo, he looked a little more alert now that he was moving around.</p><p>“Is that just voice control or something more?”</p><p>“More,” Tony said, glad to have a topic that was less likely to end in something awkward.  “JARVIS is my AI.  He runs the Tower, helps me in the workshop, runs a whole lot of stuff for me.  If you have any questions, you can just ask him out loud, and he’ll answer you.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Bucky said thoughtfully.  Steve looked interested and opened his mouth to ask more, when the elevator arrived.</p><p>“All yours, guys,” Tony said, waving at the corridor that led into the living room.  Steve stepped out, drawn to one of the pieces of artwork on the walls, while Bucky lingered for a moment.</p><p>“Which room?”</p><p>“All of it?  The whole thing’s the guest suite.  Go nuts,” Tony said, making shooing motions with his hands.  He desperately needed some time alone right now.</p><p>Bucky stepped out without a word, and the doors swished shut behind him.  The elevator ascended a few more seconds before opening on Tony’s floor.  He walked out, and then immediately found a wall to brace his back against before sliding down to sit.  What the hell had he just gotten himself into?</p><p>--</p><p>Bucky looked around the “guest suite” with a growing amount of awe.  The living room alone was bigger than any apartment he’d ever lived it, luxuriously appointed with furniture covered in leather or rich, soft fabrics, further softened with throw pillows and blankets.  Tables of carved wood or wrought metal and glass were scattered around, and the built-in shelves around the media center held books and interesting curios.  Modern artwork and vintage photography decorated the walls, spilling from the living room to the high-tech kitchen, and an entire wall of windows that looked out over the sparkling lights of Manhattan.</p><p>Steve had made a quick tour of the living space, and had found the kitchen with a cry of delight.  Every time he opened a cabinet or drawer, his smile got a little wider.  The cupboards were full of cans and boxes and bags of food, the fridge stuffed with a full array of consumables, appliances dotted the counter, and plenty of pots, pans, and dishware for a full party of twelve were in evidence.  If it hadn’t been for the fact that every single thing was unopened, Bucky would have been certain they’d been let loose in someone’s house.</p><p>Steve pulled out the fixings for a sandwich with slightly shaking hands, warming up a just-discovered sandwich press with all the ease of someone who’d worked every kind of food worker, barista, and register jockey job at least once since he’d been fourteen.  </p><p>“Steve,” Bucky said, tallying up just what he’d seen in his mind and not liking the amount they were already in debt, “I don’t think-.”</p><p>“I’m making roast beef sandwiches.  With horseradish,” Steve said firmly, looking at Bucky.  His hands might be shaking from the chill he’d taken and the fact they hadn’t eaten since this morning, but his mouth was stubborn as ever.  There was no arguing with Steve when he got that way, and Bucky put his hands up in concession.  The unease wasn’t going to go away until he’d figured out Stark’s reason for picking them up, but he wasn’t going to fight against Steve getting what he needed, not ever.</p><p>Not even for Tony Stark.  The man hadn’t even recognized him, though for sure he’d recognized his own tech.  Not that he’d expected anything more.</p><p>He left Steve to his work and explored a little more.  He felt his eyes getting a little round and his jaw started to sag as he found <i>two</i> large bedrooms with their own luxurious bathrooms, <i>another</i> bathroom just off the living room, two rooms set up as offices, and a third with a modest selection of excellent workout equipment.  Each room blistered with technology but was devoid of personal effects.  No clothes in the drawers, but there were plenty of towels, robes, and toiletries.  Bucky had just about finished exploring when he tugged open a drawer on a nightstand.  A large bottle of lube and a box of condoms stared up at him.  Any charity he had started to feel towards Tony Stark died instantly.  This was nothing but a bigger and nicer hotel room, and Tony Stark was nothing than a particularly rich john.  Just because he was pampering them before asking for anything didn’t make him any less of a customer.  Steve had more than one semi-regular who liked to feed him by hand or things like that before or after sex, just so they felt the encounter was more “real”. </p><p>So he’d better take advantage of this generosity while he could.  Stark’s generosity could run out at any time, as he had good reason to know.  Steve had exactly the right idea. </p><p>“Hey Steve, make me some too!” he called out, drifting back into the living spaces.  Steve was already midway through one sandwich and had two more on a plate on the far side of the island.  A fourth was cooking on the grill press Steve had found, adding more delicious aromas to the air. He raised an eyebrow at Bucky, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile back despite everything, determination filling him.  Steve was warm, he was fed, and if Tony Stark was so determined to fix his guilt complex by throwing money at it, then Bucky was more than ready to take every advantage he could get.</p><p>The sandwiches were hot, satisfying, and delicious, with wonderful horseradish sauce, tender roast beef, and arugula providing a cool crunch for contrast.  Bucky started in on his, pouring himself a hot cup of coffee from the pot Steve had started while the sandwiches were cooking.  Despite whose building they were in, despite everything, Bucky was not going to throw away good food and a warm, clean bed.  </p><p>“You know,” Steve said, eyeing Bucky’s scowl even through his pleasure at the warm food, “we didn’t have to come here.”</p><p>Bucky aggressively ate another bite and raised an eyebrow at Steve.</p><p>“We could have gotten to a store, charged your phone for a minute, and called Sam,” Steve pointed out, retrieving another sandwich with care and depositing it on a plate.  Both of their phones, scratched and with charger cords that were held together with electrical tape and a prayer, were merrily slurping down power from a charging station on the kitchen counter. “We didn’t have to come here.” </p><p>“You were <i>blue</i>, Steve,” Bucky said with more force than he intended.  Steve didn’t flinch as he built another sandwich and popped it on the press.</p><p>“We didn’t have to come <i>here</i>.  We didn’t have to get into Tony Stark’s car,” Steve said.</p><p>Bucky scowled again.  Steve had never complained about what they had to do to survive.  Hell, if hooking hadn’t been illegal and they could have gotten good health insurance, Steve probably would have done it as a side gig a long time ago.  And he had listened to Bucky’s nightmares long before he had fresh ones from Afghanistan.  He knew everything about him, including the ambush that had blown off his arm and nearly ended his life had been because his group had gotten pulled to provide security detail for one special civilian who designed weapons.  One civilian who’d gotten hit with an ambush deadly enough to nearly kill everyone who was protecting him with the weapons he’d supposedly designed for American soldiers.  One civilian who’d managed to survive while nearly everyone around him had died…</p><p>“He didn’t even recognize me, Steve.  And I was protecting his stupid ass,” Bucky said.  He drank another cup of coffee too fast and winced at the heat.</p><p>“Think he might have been a little distracted, what with the bullets and all?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow in return.  “I mean, kind of a shock, when suddenly your own stuff’s being used to try to kill you.”</p><p>Bucky heaved a sigh, letting out resentment with his breath.  Steve wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know, anything he hadn’t worked on during the few times he’d seen a counselor, anything he hadn’t talked about in veterans’ groups, when he could muster the strength to get there.  What was the point of sitting here in a stupidly rich apartment with hot food in his stomach, warm and safe and with the man he loved by his side, and feeling angry and resentful?  It wouldn’t help anything.  He nodded at Steve and smoothed the scowl away from his face.</p><p>Steve mowed through two more sandwiches before conceding defeat, Bucky three, and they finished the pot of coffee between them before putting away the ingredients and leaving everything else for the morning.</p><p>“Shower?” Bucky suggested.  Steve had lost the chalky paleness and bluish tinge to his face and hands that had so alarmed Bucky an hour before, but despite the warm food and drink, a hot shower and some sleep with plenty of blankets in a warm room would do him a world of good.  Steve was blinking sleepily, and didn’t need much encouragement at all for Bucky to steer him to the bathroom he’d found next to the first bedroom.  The bathroom alone was bigger than the last three SROs they’d stayed at, and the shower was bigger than the bedroom in the apartment they’d shared.  But there seemed to be endless hot water, enough soap, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, body scrub, loofahs, and more to clean a football team, a huge supply of fluffy towers in a warmed rack, heated floors, and clean, plush robes.</p><p>Bucky didn’t care how they were going to have to pay all of this back at the moment, not when Steve was nearly purring in the heat and looked better than he had in an age.  A quick brush of teeth and a rinse with mouthwash from the ridiculously extensive collection of toiletries in the drawers, and then they hopped in together and spent far too long cleaning themselves and each other.  Steve gave him a suggestive smile when Bucky’s hands slid down his back and lower, then slid around to his chest to pull him flush with Bucky’s body.  Steve sighed appreciatively and ground against him for a minute, then turned around, slippery as an eel, and gently pushed Bucky to the bench seat against one wall before sliding gracefully to his knees.  </p><p>“You sure?” he asked, caressing the side of Steve’s face with care.</p><p>Steve just gave him a <i>look</i> that brooked no argument, before taking Bucky in hand and nudging his thighs open to give himself room to work.  Bucky gave himself up to Steve’s care and talents, right hand spasming in the fine blond locks as Steve took him deep and swallowed around him until Bucky couldn’t stand it anymore, giving himself up with a strangled cry.</p><p>Steve wiped his mouth and leaned against Bucky’s thigh as Bucky bent over him to stroke him to completion, never taking long, but gasping out his appreciation in a way that Bucky adored.  Getting other people off was as good or even better than Steve’s own pleasure, but he always waited and gave himself up for Bucky’s touch when they were together.</p><p>Well, almost always.</p><p>Bucky pulled them both upright again and washed away the remaining mess before turning off the shower and making use of the fluffy towels and plush robes.  Steve experimented with opening drawers beyond where they’d found the new toothbrushes and toothpaste, and found combs, razors, deodorant, every toiletry they could conceivably need, and a few things neither of them recognized.  With a shrug, Steve helped himself to everything he needed, Bucky copying him with only a little extra trepidation.  Their bill was already steep, and a comb wasn’t going to make a difference one way or another.</p><p>“Come on, I want to go sleep for a thousand years,” Steve said.  Bucky was in full agreement, and followed him into the bedroom.  Steve squirmed under the covers, moaning luxuriously at the electric blanket Bucky had turned on during his earlier tour.  His eyes blinked in a way that meant he was moments from sleep, and Bucky didn’t hesitate to climb in after him, wrapping Steve in his arms as they sank in the unbelievable softness and warmth of the bed.</p><p>Steve was out like a light in seconds, and Bucky was starting to lose the fight against fatigue himself.  He cast one last look around the large bedroom and firmed his resolve; he’d pay whatever and whoever he had to, if he could have this for Steve.</p><p>--</p><p>Steve rolled out of bed in the morning with an unexpected feeling of contentment, and the somewhat odd feeling of being fully rested.  Bucky hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night, not once.  There was no need to be on guard against someone stealing what they had and wanting to rough them up in the process, and for once no nightmare had intruded on Bucky’s night.  As a matter of fact, Bucky was still deeply, blissfully sleep, and Steve wouldn’t wake him for the world.</p><p>He slipped out of the room, wrapped himself in an oversized robe from the bathroom, and padded to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast.  Bucky, no doubt, was planning on making the first move to protect him, just like he had in the car.  But Steve intended to steal a march on him.  Bucky might be tallying up what he “owed” and was ready to deal with whatever Tony wanted to help Steve, but Steve wasn’t about to have Bucky plunge headlong into a potentially bad situation for him before he’d checked out the client.  Tony Stark didn’t give off the vibe of a man looking for exotic and strenuous release at someone else’s expense, but Steve wanted to make sure he was on the level.  </p><p><i>Two can play at the protection game, Buck,</i> Steve thought flippantly.  As he made breakfast, he said out loud, “JARVIS?  How do I contact Tony?”</p><p>--</p><p>“Sir, Mr. Steve Rogers, from the guest suite, wishes to speak with you.”</p><p>Tony blanked for a moment, wondering what in the world was going on, then last night came rushing back in a confusing wave of shame, guilt, a little bit of lust, and confusion.</p><p>Somehow he’d managed to make it from the hallway to his bedroom, even managed to get his shoes off, but was still in his now-rumpled tux.  He really had brought a pair of guys working the streets to the Tower and put them in a guest suite.  One of whom was a veteran wearing his tech.  Both of whom were disturbingly attractive.</p><p>Shit.  Time to face the music.</p><p>“Onscreen, J.”  To hell with his appearance; if he put this off any longer than now he wasn’t going to muster up the strength to deal with it for a very long time.</p><p>Steve’s thin face, now looking freshly-scrubbed and twice as adorable, filled the screen.  He smiled widely, baby blues tossing a wink at Tony that had to be illegal.</p><p>“Hi there!  Look, normally I would do this waaaaay before now, but I was a bit out of it last night and you were very good to us with the room and all.  So, I’m going to send you my standard contract, and Bucky’s, plus there’s a combined one if that’s your bag.  Rates and everything are included but…” Steve laughed and waved at the room around him, which Tony vaguely recognized as the kitchen.  A glass of orange juice and an empty plate with a few fragments of eggs were at his elbow.  “Well, I figure we owe you a few freebies for the timely assist.  Once we get that hammered out, then we can get going on having a good time.”</p><p>Tony blinked again as three <i>pings</i> heralded the arrival of three files.  JARVIS put them up on a side screen, showing they were exactly what Steve had claimed them to be – rules, rates, and specialties for each man.</p><p>Tony stared at the lists with trepidation.  Not surprise, because he’d done nearly everything on the list twice, but with the certainty that he definitely didn’t deserve it.  Not that he didn’t want it.  But he definitely didn’t deserve it.</p><p>“You sure?  You looked a little blue last night?” he said to stall.</p><p>“Nah, some warm food and a good night’s sleep and I’m fine.  Can’t keep me from you, handsome,” Steve chuckled, his voice surprisingly deep for such a small man.  Nevertheless there was a slight wheeze on the end of the laughter that Tony remembered from last night, and that gave him an idea.</p><p>“Hey, before we get down to brass tacks, how about we get everyone checked out?  Medically,” he added abruptly.  Realizing that likely came across in the wrong way, he added, “I’m just really paranoid about it.  Then you guys can see my bill of health too.”</p><p><i>Thank you Howard Hughes,</i> Tony added mentally.  Being eccentric while rich was, as he well knew, a pass for a vast multitude of sins.</p><p>“Um, sure.  No problem.  Is there somewhere..?”</p><p>“I’ve got a clinic in the Tower.  JARVIS will set up appointments for you guys and let you know.”</p><p>Far easier for people to take up any issues with an in-house clinic, and doctor’s appointments and annual physicals could be done without anyone needing to rearrange their schedule if it fell during a workday.  Tony’s dad had implemented that back in the 50s to build company loyalty, and he’d seen no reason to change it.</p><p>Except this could be awkward if someone needed to know why they were in the building…</p><p>“Sounds good to me-”</p><p>“Hey, uh, this is going to sound a little weird, but I need to put you guys down as consultants when you fill out the paperwork.  I’ll cover everything,” Tony said.  The last probably didn’t need to be said, but better to point it out than have them reluctant to go get checked out.  </p><p>There was a small pause, and then Steve said, looking thoughtful, “Refill my meds too?”</p><p>“Fuck yes,” Tony said explosively, probably startling Steve.  If they were living on such a razor edge, who knew the last time they’d had the money to get prescriptions refilled?  “Anything you need.  I like my people happy and healthy.”</p><p>“Same,” Steve said, almost drawling it to give the word a sultry air.  He looked oddly satisfied at Tony’s answer.  “Let me know where and when, and I’ll get us there.”</p><p>“JARVIS will let you know everything,” Tony promised, and then ended the call.  He breathed out slowly, and finally levered himself out of bed.  He let his tuxedo drop, and went to take a fast, hot shower.</p><p>“Sir, I have the appointments set up.  Shall I commence the background checks to find the best fit for them in the company?”</p><p>Tony pressed his head against the wall of the shower and muttered, “What the hell am I doing, J?”</p><p>“Hiring two consultants, it seems, sir.”</p><p>Tony muffled a bit of laughter against his arm.  </p><p>“It’s been several months since I’ve heard you laugh, sir.  Perhaps your meeting was serendipitous.”</p><p>“And maybe unicorns exist, JARVIS.  Anything else I need to know for today?”</p><p>“Mr. Stane wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience, and Ms. Potts after lunch.  Then you scheduled yourself for several hours of private research and development.”</p><p>“Sounds like a plan.”  Tony pushed himself away from the wall and finished his shower with a sigh.  How the hell was Obi awake and bright-eyed after that damn party?  He’d left even later than Tony.  “Let Obi know I’ll be down in an hour.”</p><p>--</p><p>Bucky woke up to Steve poking him in the ribs.  “Get up, we’re going to the doctor.”</p><p>“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” Bucky said automatically, face still in the pillow, and then froze.  He turned to face Steve, eyes wide.  “Doctor?  What?”</p><p>“Tony wants us to get full physicals, and he’s paying, medicine too.  Said he’d put us down as consultants.  Looks like we’ve got the day free after that,” Steve said.  He had managed to find a steamer somewhere in the cavernous closet, and was using them to freshen and de-wrinkle their best regular clothes.</p><p>“Huh?” Bucky said, sitting upright, hair falling every which way.  He’d met clients who made sure to look them over carefully for any signs of sickness, who made them scrub themselves down before any action, who were paranoid about using condoms religiously, who only did business through glory holes.  But never anyone who was willing to spring for a full medical check-up.</p><p>“Doctors.  You know, the people who make sure we don’t die of preventable things?  The people who are very expensive when your body broken as fuck and you don’t have insurance?  The people we’re going to see for free, because Tony is paying, and that’s a nice thing to do?” Steve asked rhetorically.</p><p><i>Probably just to make sure we’ll survive the experience.</i>  Steve had looked far too pale last night, despite him trying to pretend otherwise.  Bucky scowled a bit, but smoothed it out when he saw Steve looking so hopeful, remembering their conversation last night.  Regardless of who was paying for it and why, they needed it, just like they’d needed the food, the shower, and the bed.</p><p>Another tally-mark on their bill.</p><p>Bucky rolled over and stood up, grabbing the clothes Steve had finished and pulling the gloriously warm cloth onto his body.  “Let’s get going, then.”</p><p>--</p><p>Steve grabbed the bag of medications from the pharmacist with all the enthusiasm of a kid grabbing trick-or-treat candy, making Bucky roll his eyes slightly and Steve to retaliate with a perfectly-timed bony elbow to his ribs.  The appointments had been surprisingly decent, thorough but without judgment.  The doctor seemed utterly unfazed when Bucky had taken off his shirt to reveal the extent of his prothesis, nor had offered so much as a batted eyelash when he’d mentioned what he'd been doing for the better part of a year to make ends meet.</p><p>“We’ll make sure to do a full blood panel, then,” was all he’d said, and gone on to other questions.  Either Stark had warned the medical staff of what to expect, or the doctor was an amazing actor.  Or Stark had weirder employees than Bucky.</p><p>All in all, it felt like he’d gotten off lightly.</p><p>When they got back to the guest suite four hours later though, he realized he’d thought wrong.</p><p>The cavernously empty closets in the bedroom they’d been using were now full of clothing and shoes in their sizes.  Art supplies filled one of the offices with everything Steve could ever want.  And books and tools filled the other, manuals and boxes, and a laptop programmed with stuff he hadn’t seen since his last trip to the VA, right before his benefits had “run out” and they stopped taking his calls.</p><p>And on the coffee table in the living room, two folders, and two employee ID badges.</p><p>Steve picked up his slowly, looked at it in wonder, and turned it to Bucky.</p><p>
  <i>Steve Rogers, public relations consultant</i>
</p><p>Bucky’s read, <i>James Barnes, prosthetics maintenance and improvement consultant</i></p><p>The folders were actually covers for tablets with employment contracts.  And there was not a mention of sucking dick in any clause.  Bucky checked.  Twice.</p><p>Steve stared at it, baffled, then delighted.</p><p>“This can’t be serious,” Bucky said, turning the badge and tablet over, and if expecting the punch line to fall out.  There was no end-date of employment listed. </p><p>“I dunno, Buck, looks serious enough to me.  And if it’s not, hey, I’m gonna go break in those thousands of dollars of art supplies before anyone comes to their senses, including me.”</p><p>He turned to Bucky and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a slow kiss.  “Hey,” he said, as he pulled back, “This is good for us.  Maybe it’s all out of guilt.  Maybe it’s because he feels sorry for us.  Maybe it’s because he looked us up and wanted to give us a job because we’re good at what we do.  And if I get to use Stark Industries as my platform, if I can put that on a resume, I can do a hell of a lot for us and everyone who’s been helping us.”</p><p>Bucky held Steve’s hands, and knew he was right.  Steve had been the one to keep them afloat when Bucky had come back broken.  He’d done posters and pamphlets all over the neighborhood, for the guys at the local VA who’d tried to help Bucky when he could muster up the courage to come in, to the activists who tried to make things better for so many different kinds of people.  Steve had the gift of talking to people, and always made an impression.  Sometimes that was an impression of his fist in their jaw if someone was being a dick, other times he was great at talking them into whatever jobs they could manage, between Steve’s physical health breakdowns and Bucky’s mental ones.</p><p>But if they could stay, if Steve could keep those doctors, these medicines, then Steve could use that gift and reach so many more people.  Particularly if Tony Stark kept them on.</p><p>“Tell you what, you go make a mess in that art studio, and I’m gonna go talk to Tony about this job he has for me, all right?” Bucky said, trying to keep his voice level.</p><p>From the look on Steve’s face, he’d seen right through Bucky’s bullshit, as usual, but wasn’t going to keep him out of that fight.  He trusted him too much.</p><p>“Good luck,” was all he said, and kissed Bucky one more time. </p><p>--</p><p>Tony knew he had a tendency to go overboard.  Way overboard.  The clothes he’d had ordered as soon as JARVIS had his guests’ sizes, but the art supplies, the tools and books, those had come as soon as the background checks had come through.  Facebook and Instagram and other social media had painted a clear picture, employment records and Bucky’s service record had added depth and detail. </p><p>It was too generous.  Too fast.  But he didn’t know what else to do.  He’d brought them into his home, his Tower, and they deserved everything he had taken from them, even if he hadn’t known about it.  It was at least one good thing he could do.  And if he was very, very lucky, maybe they would be willing to help him too.</p><p>Too, sending his people to buy nice things for two guys who deserved it was a lot more satisfying than his meeting with Obi this morning. </p><p>“We talked about the Jericho missiles, Obi.  Every damn month we talk about those missiles.  I want them phased out, not ramped up,” Tony had said, carefully trying to not pull his hair out.</p><p>“It’s what the folks want, and they’ve got the money, Tony,” Obi said, like he always did.  “This is what we do, Tony.  I know you got a little starch knocked out of you over there, but you keep trying to pull our fangs and no one’s going to buy so much as a billy club from us.  Relax.  Go hit your workshop, invite someone over for the night.  I’ve got this until you’re feeling up for it again.”</p><p>Tony was going to argue that every time he turned around Obi was trying to get contracts for more of the exact stuff that he no longer wanted on the market.  He was going to pull out files and sales records that JARVIS had compiled.  He had his points all laid out in a neat little row.</p><p>“Gotta get your head on straight, Tony,” Obi had said before Tony could talk, looking fatherly and serious.  “People are gonna start talking.  Go out to the gun range and blow off a few rounds.  Hell, go up to that place upstate Howard bought and go hunting or something.  Take a break, Tony.  I worry about you, all right?”</p><p>The idea of shooting a damn gun at anything living, or even a paper target, gave Tony the shakes.  He had been an outdoorsman only as long as Howard had been alive, and after that had used hunting expeditions as an excuse to go to the hunting lodge and get drunk.  The very idea of the crack of a gun in his ears made his vision tunnel and ears roar.  Obi seemed to take Tony’s quiet for assent and just smiled and saw himself out.</p><p>It had taken JARVIS breaking in with information about his two new houseguests for Tony to come back to himself and try to focus on anything outside himself.</p><p>At least his meeting with Pepper had been normal, and he’d gotten a chance to apologize more sincerely for ducking out last night.  Though probably he should point out who was in the guest suite before Pepper heard about it from her people.  With a sigh, Tony went to apply himself to the power-supply array he was working on, hoping he could try to do some more good today to counteract the next load of missiles being sold.</p><p>--</p><p>For a guy who was worth several billion dollars, Tony Stark was surprisingly easy to get to.  All Bucky had to do was ask the ubiquitous JARVIS, “Hey, where can I find Tony?”</p><p>“Master Stark is in his laboratory.  If you can to step into the elevator, I can convey you to him.”</p><p>“Just like that?”</p><p>“Master Stark left orders that you were to be admitted if you requested such.”</p><p>Bucky clenched his fists, relaxed them consciously, and then stepped into the elevator.  It deposited him seconds later into a huge, gleaming technological laboratory and workshop that was gloriously chaotic and littered with as many screens and holograms as tools and mechanical projects.  A one-armed robot with a claw hand trundled across the floor, carrying a fire extinguisher, and sprayed it at something behind a bench.  Tony popped up, cursing the robot both fondly and roundly, ordering it back as he picked up something from the floor and deposited it back on the bench.  </p><p>It was then that he caught sight of Bucky, and stared at him, wide-eyed.</p><p>Bucky seized the opportunity immediately, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.  “Why didn’t you let me?  In the car?”</p><p>Tony was gape-mouthed for a second at Bucky’s abrupt appearance, before finally managing to respond.</p><p>“I… didn’t pick you up for that.”</p><p>“Why, then?  Why do it?”</p><p>Tony couldn’t help it, his eyes flicked over to Bucky’s arm.  Bucky’s nostrils flared and his eyebrows furrowed in anger.</p><p>“Feeling guilty?  Nice.  Well, at least it netted us a night with good food and a warm, clean bed.”  He stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>“I-.”  Tony stopped trying to talk.  Bucky was right.  He <i>had</i> felt guilty.  He hated that, hated the evidence of half his life’s work paraded right in front of him in the form of a veteran with an arm probably blown off, strapped back up with Tony’s guilty apology technology, only to come back home to a job that wasn’t there and an apartment he couldn’t afford and a friend he wouldn’t leave.  That left one last thing to sell so they wouldn’t starve, and by all Tony called holy, he wasn’t going to take the last thing Bucky or Steve had going for them.  The damned dregs of humiliation to have to be willing to get on your knees for the man who probably indirectly wrecked your life was more than anyone should have to bear.</p><p>“Yeah.  I was feeling guilty.  Couple guys out in the cold, one of them damn near delirious, talking about going to shelters, and one of them is sporting one of my arms?  I’ve got a heart, Barnes.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, now that you’ve gotten your guilt boner stroked, you want to tell me what the hell we’re doing here?  For Steve’s sake, I’ll stay kept, but I can’t keep living here waiting for the other shoe to drop.  You want me to work?  I’ll keep it discreet.  I don’t need endless charity.”</p><p>The heat of Bucky’s anger stung, but it felt more than justified.  But Tony didn’t want to be just another rich guy throwing money instead of solutions at the problem.  Coming up with answers to problems, that was what he <i>did</i>.</p><p>“You’re a good at what you do.  And smart.  That auto shop you worked for thought you were great.”</p><p>Bucky looked wary, but nodded.  “Yeah, Drexler was a good boss.  But I was gone for two years, and they didn’t exactly have jobs just laying around.  Not… not enough for me and Steve too.”</p><p>Tony knew his perspective was rather skewed sometimes, but he recognized talent when he saw it, and he had a very good imagination.  One of the people on Pepper’s staff had filled him in on the public record details of his two guests.  Bucky had not just rebuilt cars, he also had worked technical problems on high-end luxury vehicles and supercars, plus doing the books.  It had been a decent job, and one that gave him enough background to translate into certain skills in the army, but it hadn’t been enough for the medicine that one uninsured Steve Rogers needed for his lengthy list of health problems.  And for an artist doing gig jobs, time was money, and every time he landed in the hospital or was too sick to move much from his own bed, Steve just kept losing more and more. So Bucky had joined the army, hoping that somehow he could translate what he would learn there into something more for him and Steve.</p><p>By the time Bucky had gotten shipped back on his medical discharge, Steve must have been stretching his medication out to the point of uselessness, and cut everything else back to razor-thin margins.</p><p>Without the job, and with no one willing to hire them, they must have turned to the oldest profession so Steve could get what he needed.  Prostitution must have netted them enough money for a while, but all it would take would be a bad customer, a crackdown by the police, a run of bad weather, or someone managing to steal their cash for them to end up worse than they had before.  And if Bucky was selling himself while Steve hacked and coughed in a fleabag SRO, then it wouldn’t take much for a heartless landlord to turn him out and leave them with nowhere to go.  </p><p>“Look, you used to rebuild cars.  I know you must have read the user’s manual on your arm backwards and forwards because I can see that thing is cherry.  So, I’ve got spots open in my prosthetics department.  You still want the job?  Comes with this great apartment, medical, dental, and vision.”</p><p>“How do you know I don’t just go to the VA and get it tuned up?”</p><p>“Because you’ve got toolcase impressions on your jean’s left asscheek.”  Tony had noted that in the elevator, immanent panic attack or not.  He was only about to have a minor meltdown at the time, not dead.</p><p>Bucky near smiled, lips struggling against his usual scowl.  “Like what you see?”</p><p>“A man who carries tools everywhere and knows how to use ‘em?  Hell, yeah.”  Pepper probably would have tried to slap a hand over his mouth, but it wouldn’t have made what he said any less true.  Both Steve and Bucky looked <i>good</i> to Tony, and even a casual skimming of their backgrounds (and Tony’s had been less than casual) showed that they were more than just pretty faces.  It was probably not a wise thing to say, but he hadn’t often been accused of wisdom.</p><p>Bucky swayed forward, and Tony stumbled back until he hit the table, Bucky hemming him in close.</p><p>“I’ll take the job,” he said right in Tony’s ear, his voice somewhere between a purr and a snarl.  “If I’m going to be bought and paid for, I might as well get benefits.”</p><p>Bucky pushed back, abruptly freeing Tony, who stumbled back upright, feeling like he’d just avoided being eaten by a tiger.</p><p>Tony gripped the edge of the table to give him strength, and spoke up before Bucky left the lab.  “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Bucky turned around again so fast his hair flew and stalked back to Tony, fire in his eyes.</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>Tony swallowed.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I know the arm isn’t enough, the apartment isn’t enough, the job isn’t enough, and I know anything isn’t enough to make up for what happened to you.”</p><p>Bucky stared at him, eyes wide with surprise.</p><p>“I didn’t get it until the ambush, not really.  I use technology to solve problems, it was all just a big puzzle to solve, and I never really got it until there were people shooting at me.”  The cool metal of the table edge under Tony’s hands was about the only anchor keeping him steady as he talked.</p><p>“Yeah, I know.  They were shooting at me too,” Bucky said, his words clipped.</p><p>“What are you talking about?”  Tony finally saw something more in the anger on Bucky’s face than just his anger at losing an arm; there was something <i>personal</i> in his rage.  A horrible realization started to dawn on him, one he hadn’t been able to face until right this second.</p><p>“Because I was there too, you asshole!” Bucky snapped.  “I watched ten of my buddies get shot to pieces and then had my damn arm blown off protecting <i>you</i>.”</p><p>Tony felt the blood drain from his face.  He mouthed the words, “Oh, God,” without any sound coming out.</p><p>“The Lieutenant Colonel was keeping the enemy off our backs, threw you in the truck, then he came back for my ass.  They had to call in pararescue so the three people left wouldn’t die on the way back to base.”</p><p>The arm thudding down in the sand and dust, splashing Tony with blood.  Hot metal and gunpowder, the dull ache of the shrapnel caught in his vest, inches away from giving him a slow death sentence.  He felt bile in his throat and turned away.  Bucky didn’t want his guilt.  Bucky didn’t need Tony falling apart, not after what had happened. </p><p>“I was in recovery for weeks.  No one knew about Steve; I couldn’t tell anyone or they would have kicked me to the curb.  I couldn’t send him money while I was out, and no one else knew…  He got sick again, and he didn’t have the money and no insurance and by the time he got hit with the ER bills-  He had a client list two weeks after I went over, but you can’t show up to that job looking like death warmed over; most of ‘em don’t like it like that.  By the time I got discharged and got the arm slapped on me, I was still a fucking wreck and Steve was lurching between cash and debt with no way of knowing if we were going to be sleeping in a bed that night.  He found ways, though.  Good people, good clients.  Pushed through a lot, at least until I managed to get myself more or less right.  Then winter.  Then <i>you.</i>”</p><p>Fate had a terrible sense of humor, Tony decided.</p><p>“Steve was running on too many days of empty, and then you just stroll up out of nowhere and ask us to go home with you.  I mean, <i>fuck</i>.  Seriously?  What am I supposed to do, throw a fit when he’s about to keel over and die of hypothermia?  So yeah, I was about to suck your dick to keep him alive.”</p><p>Tony gripped the edge of the workbench so hard for a moment he felt pain.  Letting go, he saw some strands of discarded wire lying there and slid them through his hands as he tried to find words.  “I wanted to shut down the weapons’ division of the company about the time Rhodey threw me in the Humvee.  I saw… I saw all of you, all of your friends get killed.  Because of me.  With <i>my</i> weapons in the hands of angry people.  Weapons I made because I meant them to defend you.  But it didn’t work that way.”  Tony felt sweat breaking out across his face, feeling the imaginary splash of hot blood across his forehead.  Bucky stared at Tony, his anger slowly draining away, as Tony kept talking.  “I’ve been trying to get it shut down, but I’ve got people who hate the idea.  Company’s in my name, but the board can shut me out, vote me off, and I’ll have no leg to stand on when it comes to changing how things run if I’m not careful.  I’m trying to move funds around to different places, moving people to new departments, trying to make different deals so they can just <i>see</i> how we can change.”</p><p>Bucky’s mouth gaped open as he realized how deadly serious Tony was.  </p><p>“And… and maybe you and Steve can be a part of that?”</p><p>“We can?”</p><p>Bucky took a step back from Tony and found a stool to sit down on.  He folded his hands together, his left one responding a little slowly, as if the prosthetic was reluctant to relax because of how tense Bucky was.</p><p>“I hope so,” Tony said, letting out a long, slow breath.  “When I saw what Steve has on his Instagram page, how you’d kept your prosthetic up and running despite everything…  Some things fell into place.”  He had a glitter in his eyes that Bucky recognized, a spark of creativity that was burning brightly, just like when Steve had found an outlet for his art.  It gave him a bit of a shock, but not necessarily in a bad way.</p><p>“Okay,” Bucky said, and looked at his hands, then back at Tony.  “Tell me more?”</p><p>--</p><p>“Hey, come on in!”</p><p>Steve waved Tony in from the doorway into his new studio.  After talking with Bucky and asking him to be in charge of improving the free repair clinic downstairs, he needed to talk to Steve about the other half of, well, trying to make things better.  There were three pieces scattered on the table next to Steve, and a fourth on the easel was three-quarters finished.</p><p>“That’s amazing,” Tony said, picking up the pieces with care.  He’d already seen some of Steve’s stuff when JARVIS had been showing him Steve’s Instagram, but these showed some of Bucky while he was doing maintenance on himself.  The care in the drawings was easily as good as Steve’s considerable artistic skills.  Between what he was holding in his hands and what he’d seen of the posters and flyers Steve had made in the past, Steve would actually not just give a damn about what Tony was trying to do, but would make it a project he could pour some passion into.  At least, Tony hoped so.  The stuff he’d made about getting sex work decriminalized, about universal healthcare, immigration, and a dozen other topics showed that once he got his teeth into something, he bit down <i>hard</i>.</p><p>“Steve, I want to get something off the ground.  For the company.”</p><p>“Bucky kind of gave me the gist,” Steve said, twirling the pencil in his fingers, nodding at Tony to say it out loud.  “What are you looking for?”</p><p>“I want to switch Stark Industries from weapons to defense.  Completely.  Medical, agricultural, clean energy, armor for people and vehicles, helper bots, anything but weapons.  I never want another weapon to have my family name on it, ever again.”  Tony could feel himself paling a little as he said it out loud, but felt relieved he could actually say it to someone.  Obi would have laughed it off as a joke, and had every time Tony had tried to bring any part of it up.  Pepper would have been rightly worried for him, and he hadn’t had enough in him to find a way to lay it out so she wouldn’t have to stress.  Rhodey would have taken a hell of a lot of convincing, considering his whole job as Tony’s liaison to the military could be completely tanked by the switch.  But maybe, with some outside help…</p><p>Steve looked utterly delighted, his thin face lighting up with enthusiasm.  “Bucky was right, you aren’t kidding.”</p><p>“I just… need people on my side.  I need popular opinion on my side, other people on my side.  I need to make it hard for the board to say no,” Tony said slowly.  He’d been working out the reasoning he’d give the board since he’d woken up in a hospital after the ambush, but the past year had been a steep uphill climb in more ways than he’d thought possible.  “The way Dad ran it, the way Obi ran it before I was twenty-one, they want more of the same.  Obi’s not real enthusiastic about change, and I’ve blown off enough board meetings that those guys aren’t exactly my friends.”</p><p>“Who’s Obi?” </p><p>“Obadiah Stane.  Dad’s friend, my friend, half raised me after my parents died,” Tony explained.  Obi knew him about as well as Rhodey, Happy, or Pepper, but while they had enjoyed endless talks over drinks for the last couple of decades, Obi hadn’t had a lot to say about the ambush or how Tony wasn’t dealing with it.  It was a lot, Tony got it, and Obi didn’t have to shoulder any of Tony’s load if he didn’t want to, but it was damn hard to try to be the Tony Obi remembered when he wasn’t that man anymore.</p><p>Steve just nodded and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper.  “So you need a propaganda campaign.  Raise awareness.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Tony said, and his voice softened, “By someone who doesn’t think I’m trying to tank the company stock just because…”</p><p>“Yeah,” Steve said quietly.  “Bucky told me.  I might have been half off my head in that alley, but I saw how you looked at Bucky’s arm.”</p><p>“I didn’t realize he was there, not until he told me,” Tony confessed.</p><p>“You were in shock.  I’m surprised you remember much at all,” Steve pointed out.  “Sam told me it was pretty bad.  No specifics, he’s not a jerk, just…  He gave me the general idea so I’d know what Bucky was having to deal with.  That way I could help get him to group at the VA when we could.”</p><p>“Sam?”  Tony felt bewildered, but it seemed to be a day for that.</p><p>“Sam Wilson.  He was the pararescue officer who saved Bucky’s life.”</p><p>Tony blinked, remembering a man in camo and a metal backpack, but not a whole lot else.  That day came in fits of startling clarity and stretches of sun-bright fog.</p><p>“He got tired of the BS and didn’t reenlist after some other shit went down.  He’s been back about as long as Bucky; works down at the VA and runs meetings.  Now that we’ve got, ya know, a steady income, I can get Bucky back into going to Sam’s group.  I already warned him that I wasn’t gonna let that slide,” Steve said, sketching a few loose shapes on the paper.  “No excuses to not get better, even if it’s just a little bit at a time.  Or you go backwards sometimes.”  </p><p>He looked up at Tony, his smile sweet.  And Tony felt a new rush of hope, the first he’d felt in a year.</p><p>“Sounds about right,” Tony said.</p><p>--</p><p>For the next few weeks, Bucky remembered what it was like to have a job with regular hours.  He showed up at a ground-floor free clinic for vets and worked on the maintenance he’d perfected out of necessity when his own VA appointments had gotten pushed back.  Other people were a lot less mechanically inclined, or forgetful, or just couldn’t face working on their own limbs.  But that was something Bucky could do, and do really well.  He sure as shit couldn’t have made the replacement hands or arms or legs, but he could repair a lot with the right manuals and the diagnostic programs.  He had nights off he could spend with Steve, warm and safe, and could even go to support meetings again at the VA center.  Between his and Steve’s random schedule and the fact he hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave Steve alone some of the places they used to crash, he hadn’t gone in months before Tony had picked them up.  Now he was threatening to become a regular, and Sam, the guy who ran the meetings, had nearly gotten him comfortable enough to talk about his problems in front of the others.  </p><p>No call came from Tony, not even a hint of a booty call text.  The charged confrontation in his lab had been the last time they’d spoken face-to-face, though he got the occasional e-mailed question about one problem or another he’d had in the clinic.  “How could we make this better?”  “What can I change about the design to make it easier to repair?”  “Is there a way we can reach more people?”</p><p>The questions were innocuous enough, and Bucky could answer without feeling any of his old rancor.  For the last question, he’d even suggested putting Steve on the campaign, knowing his mind for design and silver tongue was better at coming up with that kind of thing.  Steve was elbow-deep in work and <i>loving</i> it.  When he wasn’t working, he was making stuff of his own, either for his own Instagram or for their friends who needed an artist’s touch on their own projects.  He had lost the translucent edge of thinness that had worried Bucky for years, and he hadn’t had a single asthma attack or relapse in weeks.</p><p>It was like living in a fairy tale.</p><p>And Bucky didn’t believe in magic.</p><p>--</p><p>“Tony, who is in the second guest suite?”</p><p>He froze, hand an inch above a ratchet he needed, before finally finishing grasping it and flashing Pepper a winning smile.  “Some guys I met after that gala a couple of weeks ago.”</p><p>Pepper didn’t respond for a moment and Tony had a moment of hope she’d decided to drop the subject, until he flicked his eyes up to the screen JARVIS was projecting for her to see her eyes scanning something back and forth.  And he knew, without even needing to see what she was seeing, that she was reviewing the security camera footage from that night.  Seeing two men in thin, painted-on clothes crowding into Tony’s elevator with him, bearing a single duffle bag between them combined with JARVIS’ records that they had taken residence in the room painted a fairly clear picture.</p><p>“Tony, why are they still here three weeks later?”</p><p>An excellent question.  Tony usual parade of admirers were typically one-night-stands.</p><p>“Um…”</p><p>“Is this…” Pepper trailed off, and abruptly she turned pink.  “Tony, did you put them on the <i>payroll?</i>”</p><p>Not that Pepper objected to paying Stark Industries employees well.  But it was pretty clearly spelled out in the employee handbook and the laws of the State of New York that employing someone to be a bedwarmer was anywhere from highly dubious to extremely illegal.</p><p>“Barnes is on the prosthetic team!  And Rogers is in design and advertising!” Tony protested.  “I have been a pillar of virtue!”</p><p>“Have you looked at their background checks?” she asked after a long pause.  Her voice was softer, gentler.  Tony looked up at her through the screen and nodded slowly.</p><p>She scanned the screen more thoroughly, seeing what he hadn’t seen at first.  Barnes’ discharge dates.  Tony’s ambush.</p><p>“I’m guessing you don’t want them to be hurt any more.”</p><p>“No.  It’s my-”  Tony shut up, hunching his shoulders subconsciously.  </p><p>“Tony, so you hired them?”</p><p>“I panicked!”</p><p>Pepper glanced over at the screen, then back over at Tony, locking her blue eyes on him.  She could see him looking over at their pictures on the screen, his eyes soft as she’d rarely seen them.  </p><p>“I like them, Pep.  I like them both a lot.”</p><p>“Why?” she asked.</p><p>“They care.  About each other.  About… everything,” he waved his hand, trying to encompass the world.  “Steve had his fingers in a half-dozen social causes even before he got here, and Bucky could have kept his mouth shut about Steve and gotten a lot more out of the Army after he got discharged, but he didn’t.  He got shut out of what he deserved, and it’s because of me!”</p><p>“Rhodey got you out,” she prompted quietly, and Tony picked up the ratchet to have something to grip so she wouldn’t be able to see how hard his hands were shaking.</p><p>“Yeah, he did.  But most of those kids died because someone was trying to get me.”</p><p>Tony had talked to Rhodey about this before.  More than once.  A lot more than once.  It had helped to put the fragments of his explosion-rattled brain’s memories into context, and it had been easier to do that with Rhodey than his therapist.  Not that his therapist was useless, not at all, it was just a hell of a lot easier to get through it the first couple of times with someone who had been there.</p><p>“And James was there,” Pepper said softly.</p><p>“Yeah.  I started the replacement limb program because I couldn’t get the picture out of my head.  Of that arm in the sand.  I owe him more than that.”</p><p>Tony knew he sounded bad, his voice rough, but he let it show.  Pepper already knew the worst of him.</p><p>“Something bring this on?”</p><p>“Obi’s being an ass again.  Every fricking time I nearly have the board talked around to switching our focus to better defense, he comes up with some other point I ‘haven’t considered’ and it’s getting damn old, Pepper.  Steve’s got these great ideas on how to push the initiative, the best we’ve had, and it sucks to admit, but Bucky’s a poster boy for <i>why</i> I want to change things up.  I just hadn’t been able to get it in words until now.  Some of the board are actually even <i>looking</i> at the new initiatives, finally.”</p><p>Pepper had seen the new TV spots, billboards, internet ads, and she’d signed off on all of them.  Not that that was her department, but her support was always a good thing.  He trusted her judgment.</p><p>“Sounds like the new guys are doing a lot of good,” she said. </p><p>Tony looked up at her.  She was smiling, and not in the extra-polite way when she quietly thought he was full of it.</p><p>“Yeah, they’re the best.  I just want…  I think they’re great,” he finished lamely, not wanting to say anything more specific.  “I think I want to go to the VA center, if Bucky wouldn’t mind.  I want some perspective.”</p><p>Pepper nodded, and plucked the tools out of Tony’s restless hands.  “No time like the present.  I think JARVIS said Bucky was already there.”</p><p>Tony narrowed his eyes and pointed his finger at her accusingly. “You’re plotting against me, you and JARVIS both.”</p><p>“Always, Tony.  Now go get cleaned up.”</p><p>He threw up his hands in resignation and went to hit the showers.</p><p>--</p><p>Sam was starting to put away the folding chairs when he spied Bucky standing in the doorway.  Smiling, he set one in the rack and walked over to the door.  “Hey, man, looking good.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Bucky said, tugging self-consciously at the warm sweater, new and whole.  Even before he’d enlisted, he’d been a regular at thrift shops.  An entire wardrobe of new clothes that were fitted to him specifically was something he was still getting used to, at least in his old haunts.  “I’ve got a job.”</p><p>“Good customer?” Sam asked.  He knew what Bucky had been doing for a living since he’d gotten back, and he didn’t beat around the bush about it, but he also wasn’t going to broadcast it in a public hallway either.  Despite Bucky attending more meetings, he hadn't actually made time to tell Sam what was going on with his life, and he owed him that. 
 Sam had saved his life, and they'd become friends once they'd reconnected in New York, but finding a way to explain the weirdness that had happened to him in the last month had been just one thing too many to talk about after group meetings.  But Bucky was finally feeling good enough to lay it out and let Sam know, and that hadn't happened in far too long.</p><p>“Started out that way.  Found us in an alley when we’d gotten stood up for a double date and hadn’t had food all day.  Asked us to come home and said he’d give us a room.  Steve was near froze to death and there wouldn’t have been any beds left anywhere we could have gotten to.  Phone was dead, so I couldn’t call anyone. So we went with him.”</p><p>Sam wasn’t going to admonish him for the danger that had put both him and Steve in, because sometimes your only choice was between bad or worse.</p><p>“And then he wouldn’t do anything, not even when Steve asked him straight out.  Had us seen the doctor, fill out employment forms.  Had one conversation with him and ended up with a consulting job in the prosthetics lab before I knew what had happened.  Steve’s working on public relations stuff.”</p><p>“Sounds great, what’s the catch?”</p><p>Sam had Bucky’s number, despite the fact Bucky’s attendance at VA meetings had been spotty at best.  Saving someone’s life tended to do that.  </p><p>“It’s <i>him.</i>”</p><p>No other qualifications were needed.</p><p>“Does he know?  Or are you letting it lie?”</p><p>“Yeah, he knows,” Bucky said, nearly growling in frustration. “He’s being so fucking <i>decent</i> I want to punch him.  I think he’s still over there sometimes, Sam, like I am.  And I don’t think he’s got a Steve in his corner.”</p><p>“Now don’t tell me you feel sorry for the mega-billionaire poor little rich man?”</p><p>Bucky glared at Sam and tried to repress a smile.  “I don’t.  He can sort out his own shit.  If giving us jobs is his therapy, fine.”</p><p>“All right, then.”  Sam left the sentence hanging in the air, and Bucky continued to help him put away chairs.  If Sam recognized the hollowness behind Bucky’s words, he wasn’t going to press him for it.  Yet.</p><p>“How’re you doing?” Bucky asked.</p><p>“Mama’s trying to set me up with people; Maria’s coming over from San Diego with Monica, and I don’t think I have a chance.”  He was grinning when he said it, and Bucky gave him a backslap.  Monica Rambeau and Sam Wilson had been orbiting each other for five years.  It was more than time for them to try something other than long distance and the occasional long weekend.</p><p>“Need some tips?”</p><p>“Do you?” Sam countered.  “Otherwise Steve is going to hog-tie you into a wedding some day before you can blink.”</p><p>Bucky snorted.  “The courts keep flip-flopping on whether or not it’d be legal here, and we don’t have the money to move out of state yet.  Besides, the Army already found out Steve’s more than my friend and there went all my VA benefits.”</p><p>“Maybe if your new job pans out you can tell the Army where to stuff it.”</p><p>Bucky considered that.  “Maybe.”  It’d be nice, more than nice if the salary Tony was given them was really going to hold up, if he managed to change the company how he wanted.  If they could go to a state where him kissing Steve in front of someone saying, “I do” was a reality and not something that would vanish in the next election cycle.  If Bucky didn’t have to remember Steve’s pink cheeks talking about Tony, and Tony’s haunted brown eyes looking up at him like he wanted to apologize for everything but couldn’t find more words.  Like he’d spent the night huddled in his bed, too afraid to move, too afraid to dream, startled by something stupid and wondering if his heart was going to burst in fear.</p><p><i>And he can warm himself by burning hundred-dollar bills,</i> Bucky reminded himself, knowing that as bad as he was some days, he couldn’t be responsible for carrying Tony too.</p><p>Even so… Anything to see Steve happy.  He’d come closer to losing him that night Stark had picked them up than Bucky liked to admit.  He’d been moments away from breaking into the event hall Stark had come out of, hoping he could stash both him and Steve in a corner to warm up, before Stark had come out and found them.  Even if they could have gotten through that night, Bucky wasn’t sure what he would have done the next night.  Or the next.  With Steve blue with cold and Bucky likely sullen and liable to bite someone’s head off because of it, they wouldn’t have been getting much in the way of customers.  And most weren’t interested in getting a blowjob from someone whose teeth were chattering with cold.  Anyone who would have taken them both likely would have been someone far sketchier than Tony Stark.</p><p>“Steve’s doing good there.  Got checked out by a doc, got all his med, more art supplies than I actually thought existed…  He’s happy, really happy.”</p><p>“You have it so bad, man,” Sam said, turning to look at Bucky full in the face as the last of the chairs were put away.</p><p>Bucky didn’t bother to deny it.  Steve had been the center of his world since they were kids.  Maybe they couldn’t get married, but it didn’t stop how they felt about each other.  “I love him.  I’d do anything for him,” Bucky said softly.  “Even live in Stark Tower for the rest of my life.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t ask you to do that for him, and you know it, not if it’s going to be eating at you.”</p><p>Bucky opened his mouth to say something like, “I can take it.”  And stopped.  Because over the past month Stark Tower had begun to feel like home.  It didn’t feel like enemy territory, or charity.  It felt comfortable.  Seeing Stark didn’t make him smolder with anger, more just frustrated that he could be doing more.</p><p>Being there wasn’t a chore.  It was a challenge.</p><p>Tony wasn’t his enemy.</p><p>In some ways, Tony was a lot more than that.  Despite Bucky’s reservations, he sometimes found himself extending their conversations about business into personal topics, and not trying real hard to end them.  And Steve, the beautiful rat bastard, said nothing, just grinned a smug little grin at him.  They were definitely going to have to talk about that at some point soon.</p><p>“It’s not,” Bucky said reluctantly, and sighed.  “It’s really not.”</p><p>Sam smiled.  “You could do worse,” he said, and Bucky knew he didn’t mean about the job or the apartment.  </p><p>“Look… I mentioned to Tony that he might want to come here, maybe talk to you a bit about that day.  Are you all right with that?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m okay with that.  If you say those new posters and ads are the real deal?”  Bucky nodded in confirmation.  “Then I’ve got some spare time.  Speak of the devil.”</p><p>Bucky turned to see a glimpse of Tony’s profile as he passed by the door, probably on the way to the bulletin board to check where Sam was supposed to be today.  He jerked his thumb to the back door, and Sam nodded in understanding.  No need to crowd the room, not when he and Steve needed to have a nice chat.  He slipped out the back before Tony came back, and texted Steve as he walked home.</p><p>
  <i>Hey, where you at?</i>
</p><p>--</p><p>Tony peered in the door to the meeting room, seeing a black man with very short hair about Bucky’s age finishing up tidying up some papers.  According to the schedule tacked to the board (paper, actual paper, how crazy was that?), this was Sam Wilson, the same Sam who’d saved Bucky’s life.  Tony opened the door and crossed to where Sam was standing. As Sam looked up from his work, Tony got a good look at his face, and a sudden bright light flashed across his vision.</p><p>
  <i>Tony was scratched and bruised, numb with shock, but he was intact and whole, which was more than the man sitting on the bench across from him.  The pararescue officer saw his pale face, but needed a second set of hands more than anything else.  Tony saw his hand grabbed by a brown one and directed to a spot on the wounded soldier’s blown-off arm and pressed down against the bandages.</i>
</p><p>
  <i> “Keep pressure on it, hard.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i> Clear directions cut through the mental fog, snapping Tony back to unwanted clarity.  He pushed as directed, keeping the bleeding slow as the medic in the metal backpack wrapped and packed the shredded meat that was left.  The blood-splashed soldier was mercifully unconscious, his face turned towards his rescuer, covered in dust and worse.  The truck jostled, but Rhodey called down an “all clear” from his position in the turret.  The driver kept going, their grasp on the wheel a hair less tense.</i>
</p><p>
  <i> Rhodey kept on watch as the medic finished with the soldier under his hands, then checked Tony over quickly for anything that hadn’t been obvious.  No holes.  He was whole.</i>
</p><p>
  <i> “You’ll live, yeah?  Don’t check out on me.  Fight it, okay?  We gotta help him,” he said. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tony nodded, focusing on the now.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and nobody heard.</i>
</p><p>Tony blinked a little and came back to himself as Sam shook his hand extra vigorously where Tony had extended it in greeting, letting him claw his way out of the memory.</p><p>“Small world.”</p><p>“Guess so.  Tony. Stark.”</p><p>“Sam Wilson.  You clean up nice.”</p><p>Tony snorted as Sam grinned.  “Well, I like the metal and camo look on you, but those casual clothes work for you too.”</p><p>“Casual life works too.  Less idiots giving orders, or trying to.”</p><p>“That sounds nice.”</p><p>Sam was good at hiding his skepticism, but Tony didn’t blame him if he felt dubious.  Tony’s name was on the company, and there was plenty of lively video evidence of Tony leading his weapons’ manufacturing company with panache.  Despite the new ads and posters, it was always good to learn from the source.</p><p>“I wanted to talk.  About things.  About Bucky,” Tony said, not having a lot of luck in the eloquence department, despite having tried to practice what he wanted to say in the car.</p><p>“I can listen to things,” Sam said, spreading his hands briefly, giving Tony the floor.  Taking a breath, Tony just plowed on.</p><p>“Bucky…  I never realized who he was or what had happened to him after that day, not until I, ah, ran into them a couple of weeks ago.  I never… really talked about it much.”</p><p>“Tell me you’re not pulling a solo act on this.”  Sam looked like he’d given this speech a lot, and while he knew it was important, he got a little tired of it.</p><p>“I got a therapist,” Tony hastened to add.  “And Rhodey was there.  I’ve talked to him too.  But I’ve just never talked about what it meant to everyone.  For everyone.  And for my company, too.”</p><p>Sam nodded.  “I’ve seen the new ads and posters.  So it’s not just a publicity stunt?”  He looked like he would kick Tony’s ass if he tried to BS an answer.  Tony would cheerfully let him.</p><p>“No,” he said, voice low and rough.  “It’s how I want it to be from now on.  I want people to live, and live better.”</p><p>“Not a bad start.”</p><p>“I’m trying.  Bucky and Steve, they’re helping.  Just by being there, just by being them.”</p><p>“Keep it up.  That’s all I can ask.”  Sam looked satisfied at Tony’s answer</p><p>“And thank you,” Tony added.  “For helping me that day.  I was… not doing really well.”</p><p>“Nobody was, and don’t let anyone tell you differently,” Sam said.  “We just carry it in different ways.”</p><p>Tony nodded, hearing Sam’s words echo what Rhodey and his therapist had told him.  Sam must have told that to so many people, possibly people that had been hurt by things Tony had designed.  He already knew his path forward, but hearing more reasons why always helped.</p><p>He shook Sam’s hand again and took his leave.  He wasn’t going to try to go to any of the groups here; this wasn’t his place, and his presence would be awkward at best and actively detrimental at worst.  But due to ridiculous funding issues (and more ridiculous rules), there were a lot of gaps that needed covering in places like this (as Bucky and Steve had not-so-subtly pointed out), and the financial director was going to find themselves with a large number of generous grants suddenly available very, very soon…</p><p>--</p><p>Bucky opened the door to find Steve sitting on the sofa in the living room, sketching in a notebook.  </p><p>“I like him, Buck,” Steve said without preamble as Bucky crossed the room, putting a pencil behind his hair and looking up at him.  “I really do.”</p><p>Bucky sat down next to him and pulled Steve in for a soft kiss.  He could see the notepad in Steve’s hands; one of his candid sketches of Tony animatedly talking about something, hands expressive, eyes bright.  In Steve’s eyes, Tony looked good, open and sincere in a way Bucky could appreciate.</p><p>Ever since the confrontation in the workshop, Bucky had felt a load start to slip from his shoulders, a burden of resentment he had been carrying without being aware dropping from him.  The worry of food and a home and Steve’s health was gone, and he had the time and even the courage to go to the VA.  He was doing something useful, with Steve at his side and Tony eagerly wanting to hear his opinion.</p><p>Steve’s declaration didn’t take him totally by surprise.  Steve and him had always been a little odd that way; they had each other through thick and thin forever, but Steve liked to share.  And Bucky loved to watch him work, or listen to it afterwards (usually with a lovely demonstration upon his own body).  If there hadn’t been all the uncertainty of food and money and a roof over their heads, plus the little matter of legality and all the bullshit that entailed, being hookers together could have been a lot of fun.</p><p>So Steve saying that he was interested in someone didn’t bother Bucky.  It was saying he liked <i>Tony</i>, which was a little unorthodox.  But Bucky had seen a new side of Tony since he picked them up in the alley, and it was a side he was coming to truly appreciate.  Tony hadn’t unwound much in over a year, if Bucky was any judge.  And Steve would be so good for him.  Bucky <i>wanted</i> that for him, for them both.</p><p>“Good thing we’re consultants,” Bucky said, and Steve grinned.  He put the notepad down and leaned against Bucky’s warm side.</p><p>“You sure you’re okay with this?”</p><p>Bucky wanted to know.  He needed to know.</p><p>“If you are, I am.”</p><p>--</p><p>A few days after Tony’s visit to the VA, Steve called him during his mid-morning workshop marathon.</p><p>“Hey there!  I’ve got something I want to show you that I’d like your input on.  Want to come up to my place?”</p><p>Well, that was odd.  Steve and him had had several meetings about the ongoing campaign to shift the company’s focus, but usually they were in the big conference rooms downstairs where Steve had more room to spread out his art.  Sure, he worked in digital mediums too, but he was more comfortable working things out with pastels or sketches, and those needed proper space.  Going into Steve and Bucky’s home was a little different.  Tony felt a little thrill of excitement thread down his spine, and reminded himself sternly that Steve’s pretty blue eyes were attached to a very feisty body (according to a couple of stories from Bucky about bailing Steve out of jail and/or the hospital when someone had deserved punching) and a very protective boyfriend.</p><p>“Yeah, sure, I can make some time,” Tony said.  He put down a modified replacement knee he was working on (from Bucky’s input), and stretched out slowly.  He’d been up too early again, overactive brain and his usual nightmares making him make the most of his forced verticality.  A break was actually a fantastic idea.</p><p>“I’m in the office at the end of the hall,” Steve said, a grin in his voice as he hung up.</p><p>When the elevator doors opened a few minutes later to deposit Tony on Steve and Bucky’s floor, the guest suite looked mostly like Tony had remembered it, with the addition of pieces of artwork he recognized as being in Steve’s style.  The line of pictures on the wall drew him down to the open door of the converted office, now an artist’s studio.  Steve was working on a small picture, hunched over on a backless stool, and Tony drew closer when Steve absently beckoned over his shoulder.</p><p>Steve put his pastels down for the moment, picking up a rag to wipe off his fingers.  He leaned back so his body plastered itself to Tony’s front, tilting his head back to wink at him with those pretty blue eyes.</p><p>“Like what you see?”</p><p>Tony felt a combination of déjà vu and whiplash, recalling Bucky looming over him during their confrontation in the workshop.  That sent another hot thrill through his blood, and his sucked in a breath to try to calm himself.  He went to step back, only to find Steve had snaked one hand behind his knee, palm flat, in a clear indication to not move.  He cleared his throat slightly, and stayed.</p><p>“Yeah.  You’re great.”  He managed to nod at the lively picture of a busker on the sidewalk, a pale-haired young man with a guitar in his hands and a scruffy little brown dog lying down at his feet, bent over his instrument in concentration, a soft sweep of outlines showing the rush of foot traffic passing him by, faint swirls of air or maybe music bringing color to the pale pedestrians.</p><p>“That’s Pietro.  He runs in every competitive race he can for the money, and busks a bit when he’s not running.  His sister’s a human-rights activist, and he sends her everything he can.  Wanda’s the one who got me my first john.”</p><p>Tony blinked, but Steve’s gaze didn’t waver.</p><p>“Trust me, I wanted it.  Asked her for it.  I’m good at it, I like doing it, and it was paying a hell of a lot more than my art was selling for.  She’s been trying to decriminalize sex work for a long time, and she knew a lot of safety tips for when I knew I had to make more money.  She wasn’t super-happy about it, because Bucky was still overseas, but what can I say?  I had a lot of doctor’s bills, I like sucking dick, and I’m a stubborn little shit, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”</p><p>Tony chuckled a little nervously as Steve pressed his head back more firmly into Tony’s stomach.  “I might have heard that once or twice.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m sure you got an earful from Bucky about my frequent flyer miles at the ER.”</p><p>Tony grinned, but it faltered a little when he felt Steve’s hand slowly start to glide up and down his thigh.  Tony breathed out very slowly as Steve turned his head, the skin of his face searing into Tony’s belly.  He could feel Steve’s breath, and stopped breathing for a second when Steve kissed him through his shirt.</p><p>“Um… This isn’t, I mean, I didn’t-”  Tony was scrambling to figure out what had brought this on, other than his idle fantasies.  If he hadn’t trusted Steve, he would have worried this was a blackmail setup, but with Steve and Bucky being consultants and the guest suite now their paid-for apartment instead of corporate housing, his worry was mostly, well, what Steve really wanted out of him.</p><p>“You’re trying.  You want to be better.”  Steve tapped a stack of pictures where he had been working on Tony’s defense initiative.  “If Bucky and me get to be that reason for you, then that’s something I can be proud about.  Bucky’s better here, too.  He always likes to say he’s out there protecting me, but he has bad days.  Sometimes the arm hurts, sometimes he can’t sleep, sometimes he sees or hears or remembers something that reminds him of something over there.  Sometimes <i>I</i> was the one that was carrying us both when he had a bad run.  Sometimes he was doing all the work when I couldn’t. You do what you can, and if you can’t, you find someone to help you.”</p><p>Tony felt a sweet rush of heat and it took a lot of willpower to step away from Steve.  “I can’t-”</p><p>“You aren’t taking advantage,” Steve said.  He held Tony’s gaze steadily upside-down.  “And if you don’t want anything, I’ll stop and I’m sorry.  But I like you.  And I want you.  I’d like to show you.”</p><p>“Bucky-!” Tony protested.</p><p>“I love Bucky,” Steve said simply.  “He’s my always.  But I have a lot of love to give.  He knows that; he’s known that since we were sixteen.  I told him what I wanted to do to you.”</p><p>Tony swallowed, his mouth dry.  “And?”</p><p>“He wanted to make sure you’d survive the experience first.”</p><p>“Um…”</p><p>“You want to turn something wrong into something right, even if it’s hard.  Even if it hurts.  I gotta admire that.”  Steve’s blue eyes were relentless, piercing Tony through and stopping every protest.  He reached back for Tony, and Tony stepped into his grasp to feel Steve plastered against his front again, sweet and warm.</p><p>“Ah, fuck,” Tony whispered, not having anything more eloquent to give.  It had been so long since he’d been with anyone, felt safe enough, <i>worthy</i> enough to be with anyone…</p><p>“Yeah, we could do that, but I’d like to get you in my mouth,” Steve said, grinning.</p><p>“Um… yes.  Holy hell, yes!”  Lust crackled through Tony like wildfire, igniting desire that had been long simmering.</p><p>“Good.”  Steve sat up and turned his chair around, grabbed Tony’s hand with his right and carefully swept his desk clear with his left.  The desk, a corner of Tony’s mind noted, had been suspiciously neat already, and he silently laughed at Steve’s neat maneuvering of everything.  Steve tugged Tony over, slapping the desktop to tell him where to go.  He only paused him long enough to loosen Tony’s belt, and tug his pants and underwear down, and Tony completed the gesture by stepping out of his shoes and clothing as Steve grinned.  He sat his ass on the edge of the desktop where Steve patted the wood with his hand, giving the seated Steve perfect access.</p><p>The sight of him framed between Tony’s thighs was exactly too hot for words.  Tony reached out to caress Steve’s hair, feeling the silky strands slide between his fingers, Steve’s blue eyes nailing him to the desktop.</p><p>“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Steve rumbled, sliding those clever hands along Tony’s thighs, breath teasing his sudden erection.  The very tips of his fingers followed, torturously good, making Tony twitch and catch his breath, feeling too close already.  “I bet I can keep you right here if I want to, just on the edge until you’re begging for it…”</p><p>He gripped Tony firmly for a minute, nearly throwing him over the edge, and then released him, leaning down until Tony could feel the warmth of his skin against the sensitive head of his dick.</p><p>“But if you’re good, I’ll let you fly…”</p><p>“Oh, shit,” Tony said, his hand still in Steve’s hair.</p><p>Steve caressed him slowly and lightly, then opened his mouth to very gently lick around the head of Tony’s erection.  Precome oozed out as Tony tried not to yank at Steve’s hair, dropping his hand to pet along the side of his face instead.  Steve made a pleased humming noise, and leaned forward more to suck Tony in gently, still caressing his shaft.</p><p>“I’m not… going to… last if… you keep that up,” Tony choked out between soft moans.  Steve abruptly changed tactics, sucking Tony in deeper, moving his tongue faster, caressing his balls in a way that sent pleasurable shivers down his spine even as his dick swelled in immanent orgasm.  Steve just hummed strongly, and Tony gave a high-pitched cry as Steve seemed to draw his pleasure out of him for long, torturous minutes, draining him dry and leaving him boneless and nearly breathless on the desk.</p><p>Tony regained the power of locomotion several long minutes later, seeing Steve grinning at him with totally legitimate pride.  “How is Bucky still able to move?” Tony said finally, and Steve threw his head back and laughed.</p><p>He wanted to give Steve even a little of what he’d given him, but found that Steve’s belly was already spattered with his come, having gotten off when Tony had without needing to put a hand on himself.</p><p>“I go when you go,” Steve explained.  “Seeing someone coming, someone that <i>I</i> made come?  That’s the sexiest thing in the world.”</p><p>Tony whimpered a little as his spent dick tried to stir at the sight of Steve so satisfied.  “I’d like to see that.”</p><p>“Oh, you will.  Soon.”  Steve kissed him again, and winked with a lethal level of beauty.</p><p>--</p><p>The next day, Tony floated through the morning on Cloud Nine, punching out project after project, lining up a lot of new lines of research, and sending out more inquiries for scientists who would staff the expanded departments once he was finished swinging the board around to his point of view.  Obi was on a business trip to Japan, which was proving to be beneficial in a whole lot of ways.  He’d only called a couple of times, and texted a few more, and it was easier to shunt aside his usual little digs from a distance.  It gave Tony time to make up lost ground from everything that had happened the last year, time to organize his arguments and let Steve’s campaign really percolate in the minds of the public.  The proof would be in the doing, and Tony wanted that proof out there in spades.</p><p>The latest result of that proof was several new improvements to prosthetics, including a new sensation augmentation prototype that should give amputees like Bucky back all the feeling they had lost, or close to it.  Luckily Tony had someone who might be willing to be a test subject for that kind of thing…</p><p>“You had me at ‘no more numb arm,” Bucky said as he walked in Tony’s workshop in response to Tony’s text this morning.  He grinned brightly at Tony, a faint bruise-like hickey just visible above the neck of his shirt.  Tony’s pulse jumped at that, and he sternly told his libido to calm the hell down.  It didn’t listen.</p><p>“Well hey, you pointed out the connection adaptor contacts had the tendency to wear down after so much use, so it’s only fair you get first dibs on the new alloy and more responsive relays.”</p><p>“You mean I’m the first guinea pig,” Bucky said, grin not fading as he sat down and pulled off his shirt.  Tony mentally whimpered, because Bucky was absolutely unfairly beautiful, and clearly had been making excellent use of the home gym in his apartment.</p><p>“For anyone else, yes, but this is me you’re talking about,” Tony said, opening the box on the table and showing Bucky his new arm.  It was a little shinier than the old model, and the articulation was definitely improved on several levels, as was evidenced by the faint contrasting gold between the plates.</p><p>“Gold?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.  “Pretty fancy.”</p><p>“You’re worth it.  It’s gold-titanium anyways, way less inclined to get jammed and able to take a lot more abuse.  Probably could deflect bullets with this baby.”  Tony looked guilty for a second, and Bucky just shrugged.  He had been a soldier; he’d gone into service with open eyes.  The ending hadn’t been what he wanted, but he wouldn’t mind a little extra protection out of his arm replacement.</p><p>“Sounds killer.”  He popped the plate on his inner arm and hit the released connectors, folding his arm onto the table.  “I just got one thing I want to add, if you can.”  Bucky took out a small drawing from a piece of paper Steve had given him.  “I’ve been missing this.”</p><p>Tony sucked in a breath, because he knew that image.  It had once been a tattoo on Bucky’s arm, the same arm that had fallen on the sand in front of him the day of the ambush.  That image had been engraved on the backs of his eyelids for a year.</p><p>“Shit, shit, I’m an asshole, sorry,” Bucky said, realizing Tony’s silence wasn’t just a pause for thought.  He started to crumple up the paper when Tony put a hand on his wrist.  </p><p>“Hey, no.  Don’t.  Let me see that,” he said.  His voice sounded steady, and he didn’t look pale anymore.  Tony took up the image of a simple star and circle, and breathed in and out slowly.  “Yeah, okay, I can add this, no problem.  Any colors?”</p><p>“Just white,” Bucky murmured.  Tony gently turned the new arm over and had some kind of etcher brought over by an odd, one-armed robot who managed, somehow, not to drop it along the way.  Tony took it from the claw, muttering threats about how he was going to sell it to a children’s science museum while the robot made chortling sounds and headed back to the other side of the workshop.</p><p>“Robots.  At least they don’t shit on the floor,” Tony said as he worked, the tool steadily buzzing as the star and circle, drawn by Steve and projected from the paper onto the arm by a holo projector, took form in minutes.  Finally Tony looked up and put the etcher aside, nodding with confidence.</p><p>Bucky grinned to see Steve’s work on his shoulder again.  “I’ve been a year without that star.  I’ve missed it a lot.  Steve made that design for me before I shipped out.”</p><p>Tony brushed his hand over the mark, blinking.  “I think… it’s a little better now that I’ve gotten it… out.”  He made a gesture as if pulling something from his head.  “Art therapy.”</p><p>“Hey, if it works.”  Bucky shrugged one-sided, which drew Tony’s attention to the fact that the arm actually needed to be <i>on Bucky’s body</i>.</p><p>Tony became all business again.  He got cleaned the connections at the socket once more and attached the new arm with finicky care, probably more than was strictly necessary.  When it was finally seated, Bucky hit the power himself and flexed it with care.  He grinned as he could feel the movement of the fingers with nearly perfect clarity.  He picked up a rag Tony had on the bench and could actually feel the roughness of the weave.</p><p>Heart thumping with excitement, Bucky reached out without thinking and took Tony’s hand.  He was going to shake it in thanks, but somehow never got that far, just loosely settling into a casual grip that felt like they’d been doing it for years.</p><p>“Steve said he’d talked to you,” Bucky said.  He was too used to how Steve was to blush, but Tony looked… not embarrassed, but somewhat amazed.  “Sounds like it went pretty well.”</p><p>“He’s wonderful.  You’re a lucky man,” Tony said.  Bucky squeezed his hand in encouragement, and Tony sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, gathering his courage.</p><p>Tony reached out and put his hand a few inches above Bucky’s shoulder.  He shivered despite the lack of physical contact.  It felt intimate, powerful.  Bucky took a step forward and let the gap close, Tony’s fingers settling on the flesh-metal join of his shoulder.</p><p>“Shit,” Tony whispered softly.  His hand was warm, callused, seeking and sure.  Tony’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes glittering.  His lips parted and Bucky darted in to kiss them before either of them could speak again.  He was good, fitting his mouth to Bucky’s without losing a beat, swaying with him.</p><p>Tony pulled back, unhurried, and slid his hand back and forth between the flesh and metal.  With the new sensations, Bucky was getting the kinds of sensory feedback he remembered from before, but with a very slight shivery echo that gave him goosebumps.  Bucky remembered what Steve had said about Tony, <i>“He’s been around the block as much as we have, but he is just in </i>awe<i> of people caring, Buck.  It’s beautiful. You’ll see it too.”</i></p><p>He did.  He saw Tony touching him with reverence, something Steve was long past.  Bucky loved it, the contrast, the difference, the feeling of something unfolding.  Steve loved him beyond and through everything, but Tony was caring having only known him short while.  Steve had been so, so right.  He was going to be insufferable for a month, but Bucky somehow didn’t mind at all.</p><p>“Hey,” Bucky said, putting his hand over Tony’s.  The warmth seemed to startle him into looking into Bucky’s eyes, and there was a question in those brown eyes that Bucky wanted to answer.  He kissed Tony again, wrapping both his arms around him, Tony returning the embrace, one hand going to Bucky’s long hair.  The slight tug ignited a spark of lust, and Bucky had the sneaking suspicion Steve had been giving Tony Bucky’s weak points.</p><p>Well, he wasn’t objecting.</p><p>“Yesss…” Bucky hissed his pleasure and shifted them back against the workbench enough to grind against Tony.  Not surprisingly, he was eagerly interested.  They stayed there for long moments, hips working against each other, the friction taking them higher and higher.  It felt fantastic, Tony warm and responsive, panting in his ear and kissing along Bucky’s neck like he was finding secrets there.  Tony’s fingers flexed in his hair again, and Bucky gasped, grinding harder against Tony and feeling himself racing for the finish line.  </p><p>“So close,” Tony panted.  “You?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, keep going, want to come for you,” Bucky groaned, clutching hard at Tony’s ass and pulling him in until they could barely move.  Tony groaned into Bucky’s shoulder as his hips twitched in tiny circles.  Bucky could feel a spot of damp from Tony’s spending, which touched off his own orgasm, coming hot and wet into his own briefs as he held onto Tony with all the strength he had.</p><p>“You’re amazing,” Tony whispered in his ear.  Bucky caressed his hands down Tony’s back and just held him easily.  “I want… I’m going to do this right, Bucky.”</p><p>“I know you will,” was all Bucky knew he had to say.</p><p>-- </p><p>Tony swirled the last of his drink in his glass as Rhodey stared at him, his own drink virtually untouched as Tony finished outlining what he was bringing to the Stark Industries board meeting tomorrow.</p><p>“So, basically, it’d sorta totally change your liaison job,” Tony concluded, and finally looked up to truly check Rhodey’s reaction.</p><p>He wasn’t expecting the slow smile that creased Rhodey’s face.  “You never make things easy, Tony.  How the hell I’m supposed to sell all those hard-assed brass on defense…”</p><p>“Come on, Rhodes, you’ve been asking for a reason to argue them into the ground for years,” Tony jabbed back easily.  “They’ll get their money’s worth, but it’ll be on stuff that’s a hell of a lot harder to turn back against our own people.”</p><p>Rhodey reached out and clapped Tony on the shoulder.  “I get it.  I know you’ve been working on this since your last trip to the Sandbox.  And honestly I’m glad you got it to work out.  Pepper told me you got some new friends who’re helping you with everything.”</p><p>“Yeah.”  Tony gave Rhodey a small, private smile, very different from the shining grin he used on stage or at galas.  “More than friends.  They just… put everything in perspective.”</p><p>“Good.  Then I’ll hold up my end.”</p><p>“And I’ve got mine all ready to go.”</p><p>--</p><p>“Tony!” Obadiah blew into the workshop with a mile-wide grin and a confident stride that meant he’d probably pulled one over on someone and they weren’t going to find out about it until the worst possible moment.  </p><p>Obi lived for the kinds of business manipulations that had bored Tony to tears, and for a long, long time Tony had been more than happy to let him take point on that part of the company.  Tony had the brilliant ideas and the razzle-dazzle salesmanship, and that had been more than enough for him, at least until the ambush.  He and Obi had agreed on most things, and they worked together hand in glove.  And for the past year or more, every time Obi had talked to him Tony walked away feeling worse than before.  </p><p>But the last three months had been a hell of a lot more productive; with Steve’s ad campaign and Bucky’s suggestions making their prosthetics clinics’ reach vastly more extensive and relevant, Tony had finally had the energy to beard the board in their lair.  While Obi had been in Japan talking to manufacturers about automation equipment, Tony had found a way to reframe their contracts with the government to work <i>with</i> his defense initiative, and managed to present it to the board in a way that dovetailed so neatly with the swell of public opinion encouraged by Steve’s ad campaign that not only did they have to capitulate, he’d actually <i>increased</i> the company stock.</p><p>Win-win-win.</p><p>He just hoped Obi wasn’t here to drop another damp blanket on everything.  Maintaining their friendship was exhausting.  Not to mention the fact that Obi had just blown past the “do not disturb” sign JARVIS had put on the door, and totally ignored the fact that Bucky was in the corner finishing working on the new arm connector so he could explain it easily to new users.</p><p>“What’s up, Obi?  Kinda busy here.”</p><p>“You’re always busy. Anything I need to know?”</p><p>“Got some new protheses-”</p><p>“Boring.”</p><p>“Upgraded the armor design for the MRAP-”</p><p>“That’ll finally shut the DoD up.  Come on, Tony, I need something to show off some <i>juice</i>.  We’ve got those new contracts-”  Obi stopped, and suddenly looked over to where Bucky was working, his shirt rucked up enough to show a slice of toned belly, his pants clinging to his ass in a bewitching manner.  “Damn.”</p><p>Tony tightened a connection as Obi stared for a minute more, then glanced back at Tony.  Tony resisted the urge to thump Obi with a wrench.  He hadn’t thought Obi was anything but straight, but apparently he’d been wrong, and he suddenly fiercely regretted that Obi had full access to the company records. </p><p>“James Barnes, consultant for prosthetic design and maintenance.  Steve Rogers has been doing the new ads I’ve sure you’ve seen.  Look, Obi, the board minutes came out yesterday.  I know you’ve read them.  Company’s going in a new direction.  A better direction.  Everybody wins, Obi.”</p><p>Obi narrowed his eyes, then suddenly laughed.  “Huh.  Nice.  I’m sure you know best, Tony.  Let me know when you have the updated stuff for the Army, whatever that’s going to be now.”  </p><p>Tony waved his hand in agreement, just glad to get Obi out of the workshop.  He hadn’t liked the way he was looking at Bucky, like a man looking for a way to acquire a new asset.</p><p>“So… that’s that Stane guy Steve mentioned,” Bucky said, once Obi had left.</p><p>“Yeah,” Tony said with a sigh.  </p><p>“Looks like some of the rich assholes we used to date.  The tips were the only thing worth taking them up on their offers,” Bucky pronounced.  </p><p>Tony laughed and shook his head.  “Obi’s going to still get his damn money, so he can be an asshole somewhere else for a change.”  He paused, and reexamined that statement.  Obi had been casual as could be, but dealing with him was taking far more out of Tony than he had to give.  Maybe it was time for Obi to retire, and enjoy his money far, far away from New York.</p><p>“Good.”  Bucky finished up the next line of instructions for care, saved the file in the system, and stood up and stretched, momentarily distracting Tony.  “Hey, Steve’s going to be out hanging up some posters with Wanda and Pietro until about six, so we’re free after that.  I’m going to go catch up on some shows until then.”</p><p>It'd been a while since Tony had had a relationship that wasn’t short-term and rather transactional, but he still remembered the steps.  “Maybe I’ll join you later?”</p><p>Bucky winked and headed out of the workshop.  Tony watched him leave with appreciation, then sobered when he remembered how Obi had looked at Bucky.  Something was wrong, he could practically smell it like an overheating wire.</p><p>“JARVIS, I need you to bring up some company records for me,” Tony said.</p><p>“Of course, sir.  What do you need?”</p><p>--</p><p>A couple hours after Bucky had left the workshop, and he was gloriously comfortable on the couch, watching the back half of the new Star Trek series he’d missed when he’d been low on money for phone data.  Or cable.  Or a TV.  Now he had plenty of all three, and it was nice to be able to escape to another world when he wanted to.  Not that this world was that bad for him, not anymore, but to have the <i>option</i>, that was the important part.  </p><p>The elevator <i>dinged</i>, but Bucky didn’t turn around.  It was either Tony or Steve, and he rather thought he’d like to be surprised about which one dropped on the couch next to him.</p><p>Which was when a tall, broad figure in a stiff suit suddenly cut between Bucky and the TV, he froze in place, fear frosting his insides.  The man loomed even above Bucky, bald head shining in the overhead lights, light suit enclosing a broad chest, looking down at him with the same superior leer that had graced the faces of his most difficult customers: the ones who demanded a fawning subjugation they felt they weren’t getting enough of, that they couldn’t <i>ever</i> get enough of.  The name came back after a moment of panic; Obadiah Stane.</p><p>“So, James Barnes.  Looked you up after that little display in the workshop, and I gotta say, Tony’s got great taste.”</p><p>Bucky flushed with fury.  He’d only been wearing his boxers and a t-shirt, having planned on spending the night with two of the people he cared for, not having a stranger appear in his house.</p><p> “Look, I get it, Tony wants to bring you in to his new business plan because you’ve got some skills he values.  But I’m his partner, his senior on the board, and I like to have approval on everyone close to Tony.  So, let’s see what you got.”</p><p>Bucky blinked at him, not understanding for a minute.  “He didn’t say-”</p><p>“Please. You know how this works. The last thing Tony needs is to be distracted by one more pretty face.  Now he’s got you and your friend on payroll, he can get what he needs whenever he gets in the mood, no hidden agendas. But I gotta approve of you.  So let’s see what you have.”</p><p>Stane made a gesture for Bucky to get down on his knees.  For a minute, blind fury washed across Bucky’s vision, wondering if he’d been bought, cultivated, and then sold for a business deal.  Just used and discarded, like the army had done to him when they’d found out about Steve.</p><p>Then reason reasserted itself.  Months of care and respect from Tony, a growing affection that was tipping over towards love, wasn’t something that was going to be thrown away.  Not by Tony; Bucky was pretty damn sure he knew him well enough by now.  Wherever this had come from, Bucky was sure it came directly from Stane.</p><p>But a year mostly on the edge kept him from reaching for his phone, for shouting for help.  Stane had a hell of a lot of money, and it wouldn’t take much to make Bucky’s life hell, not for someone like him.  And if he could get to Bucky in his home, what could he do to Steve?  What had he been doing to Tony?  From little hints, he might have been picking apart Tony’s confidence since the ambush, and Bucky could only imagine what Stane could do to wreck Steve’s life.</p><p>Heart sinking, he started to slide off the couch.</p><p>Stane’s phone started to ring loudly, a shrill sound that could not be ignored.  Stane started to paw at his pocket, looking pissed off, when it somehow answered itself.</p><p>“Obi?  Obi, it’s Pepper.  Look, we’ve got some VIPs coming in unexpectedly and I need you down at conference room 202 right away.”  Bucky could hear the urgency in Pepper’s voice and it didn’t sound feigned in the least.</p><p>“Fine, Potts.  I’m on my way.  Ten minutes.”  Obi found his phone and stabbed the hang-up button, looking irritated.  “Saved by the bell, Barnes.  Practice up, all right?  I’ll be back in a couple of hours, and I’ll be expecting you to convince me to let you keep this job, all right?  Good boy.”</p><p>Stane walked out, the elevator door dinging behind him.  When they swished shut, Bucky sat himself back on the couch, put his head in his hands, and tried to keep the shakes at bay.</p><p>Time escaped him, but when it resumed, Steve was at his side, a warm weight next to him with arms around him, and Tony was sitting across from him, fury and concern warring for supremacy on his face.</p><p>“He didn’t do anything, did he?”</p><p>He knew.  Or had found out in a hurry.  And Tony still looked pissed.  Any second thoughts Bucky might have been having about Tony faded away.  He extended his left hand and Tony took it in both of his.  The warmth he felt from Tony and Steve both let him answer as normally as he could.</p><p>Bucky made a face.  “He was an asshole, but I’ve dealt with all kinds of assholes.  I just thought-”</p><p>“Yeah, that you wouldn’t have to this time, not like that,” Steve filled in.  “I get it.”  He squeezed Bucky’s shoulder in understanding.</p><p>“The call…” Bucky trailed off, realizing that his last-minute rescue was too convenient.</p><p>Tony had the grace to look a little embarrassed as he said, “JARVIS. He’d got certain key words and phrases to listen for possibly dangerous situations.  Also, permissions on who’s supposed to be where.  When he sent me an alert for your place, I had Pepper make the call.  Sorry, I was supposed to tell you about those before now, but I, um, forgot.”</p><p>Bucky couldn’t be mad right now.  If JARVIS had a face, he would have kissed it.  From the look on Steve’s face, he’d try it regardless.</p><p>“Stane was so far out of line that he was in another damn galaxy.  The VIPs he’s going to meet are some of New York’s finest,” Tony said, holding Bucky and Steve’s gazes steadily.  Bucky was flattered, but shook his head.</p><p>“No.  If he doesn’t laugh it off as he makes bail, he’ll make our lives hell, and you can’t protect us forever, Tony.”</p><p>“Why not?” Tony said.  Bucky looked him sharply.  Tony looked bewildered, like he couldn’t conceive of a time when he <i>wouldn’t</i> protect Bucky and Steve.  Bucky felt his pulse speed up a little and Steve squeezed his shoulder again in agreement.  “I… want to do that for you.  For both of you, because you and Steve are a package deal.  And Obi doesn’t get a say in anything.  Ever again, once I finish up.  I’ve got a press conference lined up with the announcement that I’m taking the company in a new direction.  The board members are with me, and I can get Obi out in a way that he can’t come back.  No golden parachute, nothing.  With the charges I want to lay on him for assaulting you, he’s going to come out of this stinking like shit.”</p><p>Bucky looked over at the ads playing now playing on mute on the TV, the default loop from the lobby when he’d clicked away from his show – more of Steve’s work, both honest and beautiful, acknowledging the killing past of Tony’s company and what he wanted to do in the future.  It was a vision that was Tony’s alone, no Obadiah Stane attached.  If Tony hadn’t come back from the desert, Stane could have kept the company going in the old direction forever with him at the helm-</p><p>He looked sharply at Tony as an idea came to him.  “You think he’ll go quietly?”</p><p>Tony shook his head.  “No.  Not really.  He’s been pretty unhappy since you two came aboard.  All except this morning.”  Tony’s expression briefly shifted to somewhat murderous, and Bucky felt relieved.  “I’m pretty sure he’s been doing some under the table sales that I’m still tracking down, and when my legal team gets done with him, he’s going to be not just down most of his company money, but in jail.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Steve said fiercely.  “I’d like to give him a counter-image campaign…”</p><p>“I want him in jail, Steve, not obliterated.  Wouldn’t be slow enough,” Tony said, shaking his head sadly, and Steve sighed with thwarted ambition.  Bucky was feeling a lot better now with Tony and Steve’s heartfelt support at his side.</p><p>“How about you give the board and the public a few more things to polish up your new image?” Steve said thoughtfully.  “Because you’re going to be announcing the new company direction day after tomorrow anyways, and you might as well make Stane look as much like an evil ass as possible by contrast.”</p><p>Which would also protect Bucky if Stane decided to try to air everyone’s dirty laundry in public, Steve didn’t say, and didn’t have to.  It didn’t matter that Bucky or Steve had been sex workers when it came to Stane trying to extort favors, not legally, but emotionally that could sway a judge or jury if things got that far.  But a helpful hooker with a heart of gold, that played well.  </p><p>Steve didn’t have to like the game to play it, but he could play an audience as well as he could suck dick, which made him a master, and both Bucky and Tony knew it.</p><p>“There’s that new free clinic we’re going to open, the one closer to the waterfront industrial park, right near where you said a lot of the vets who come to the service center work,” Tony said slowly, looking at Bucky.  “It’s got the supplies in from what Pepper’s people told me, but it needs to be finished setting up like how you planned it.  It’s small, but we could invite some of the guys from the VA who are due for maintenance?”</p><p>“How about we go get it set up together?  Maybe see if there is someplace Steve could put some of his pieces?” Bucky said, and Steve nodded enthusiastically.</p><p>Tony nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his face.  “Sounds fantastic.”</p><p>--</p><p>“Mr. Rogers?”</p><p>JARVIS’ voice from the ceiling made Steve stop right in the middle of the living room on his way to the kitchen and look up.  Tony and Bucky had left for the clinic a half-hour ago, and Steve was busy both making sure Stark Industries’ reverse heel turn wouldn’t go wrong from an ad campaign point of view, and getting ready to insert what pictures Bucky and Tony were going to send him into the display for tomorrow.  People would call it a publicity stunt, but Steve had a very strong feeling that Tony would be down there helping out the vets his company weapons had hurt quite a bit.  Tony sometimes had the same circles under his eyes Bucky did, and it wasn’t hard to guess the source of the nightmares.  Fixing some of them in a way only he could might dispel them, and Steve loved him for that.</p><p>“I apologize for this, but Mr. Stane is out on bail and is attempting to use his company access keycard to come to this suite.  While Master Stark did deactivate Mr. Stane’s original card, he apparently had unauthorized backup copies made.  I will lock your suite if you wish it.”</p><p>The wheels of justice were sometimes too damn slow, Steve decided.  That Stane would get charged, he had no doubt, but apparently Stane had decided to come back while he still thought he had a window of opportunity and get a little extra revenge for himself.  And who was Steve to deny the guy enough rope to hang himself?</p><p>Steve put down his sketchpad, mussed up his hair a bit, and opened a few buttons on his shirt.  Then he turned to face the elevator.  “JARVIS, let him up.”</p><p>JARVIS somehow conveyed veiled disapproval with the quality of his silence.  The elevator door dinged, and Stane stepped out with an air of both possessive arrogance and low-key fury.</p><p>“Hey there,” Steve said, voice at maximum welcome, hip tilted to the side, gesturing to the couch with a smooth gesture.  “I heard you were looking to meet me?”</p><p>Stane chuckled and shook his head.  “Well, and here I thought Tony really had turned over a new leaf.  So he <i>did</i> hire you two for stress-relief on tap.”</p><p>“Well, we got hired on merit,” Steve said brightly, not moving as Stane brushed past him and sat on his couch like he owned it.</p><p>“Looks like I get to test that too.  He got all uptight after yesterday.  Your partner needs to keep his trap shut and do as he’s told,” Stane said, spreading his arms out along the back of the couch and spreading his legs.</p><p>“So that’s what you want from me?  Do what I’m told?” Steve asked, eyes wide and innocent.</p><p>“Damn right.  You and James, and Tony too.  Just do what the hell you’re told and we wouldn’t be in this damn mess.  Get down and show me what you’re gonna do for my company, Steve,” Stane said confidently.</p><p>Steve gave a slow roll of his shoulders, shirt falling open, and dropped to his knees with well-practiced grace.  Keeping his eyes on Stane, he opened up his fly with slow deliberation, pausing to cup the older man’s hardening dick with sly little smiles of anticipation that left Stane grinning.</p><p>“How about I get you more comfortable?” he asked, and slowly opened Stane’s zipper. “Because I’d do anything to get Bucky and Tony out of this mess.”  Stane only smiled smugly as Steve went to work. </p><p>In thirty seconds Stane was moaning and clutching Steve’s hair like it was a lifeline.  In less than five minutes of incoherent gibbering, he came down Steve’s throat with a hoarse shout followed by half-heard curses.</p><p>Steve sat back on his heels as Stane grinned beatifically down at him, head lolling back.  In less than two minutes, he was virtually dead to the world, and Steve rose, swishing around a mouthful of Listerine before drifting over to Stane’s phone.  He lifted Stane’s limp hand and stroked a finger over the fingerprint reader.  And snorted as it opened with no additional security measures.  He perused a few folders.  Snorted again.  Opened a few more.  Furrowed his brow.  Read more closely.  Turned pale.  E-mailed himself some files, deleted the sent messages, turned off the phone and got the hell out of there as fast as he could.  Stane barely stirred.</p><p>Steve waited until he was one floor away before calling Bucky, calling Tony, his pacing back and forth getting increasingly faster.</p><p>“Come on, come on, pick up.  Pick. Up,” he growled into the phone.</p><p>No answer.  Steve ran back to the apartment and worked the hardest he had in months.  He had to grab his inhaler before he was halfway though and wave off JARVIS’ call for an ambulance. </p><p>Twenty minutes later, Steve left the office, leaving Stane still semi-conscious on his sofa.  As soon as he shut the door, Steve broke into a run, heedless of another asthma attack.</p><p>--</p><p>Bucky shoved another crane into position, as Tony dragged a table down to the other end. </p><p>“Looks almost right.  I’m going to walk this through one more time, and I think we’re good,” Bucky said.  “I think Sam said the people he invited should be here in an hour or so.”</p><p>The phone rang as Tony’s wandering in the other direction took him near a window.  The cell service down here was notoriously bad.  He reminded himself to get boosters installed at the clinic before they had their grand opening.  He checked the caller ID.  “Steve,” he said, before answering it on speaker.</p><p>“Tony, is Bucky with you?”</p><p>“Yeah, we’re at the warehouse. What’s going on, punk?” Bucky asked.</p><p>“Stane’s planning some kind of coup, hired some nasty-sounding mercs, and he’s after you both!  Get the hell out of there, now!”</p><p>Bucky grabbed Tony’s arm and started to haul both of them to the exit.  Then slammed them both against the wall as he saw a dark SUV pull up and some fit, stern-looking characters in sweaters that covered body armor and gun holsters hopped out.  Tony took a quick look, reached into his jacket, pulled out a handgun and extra magazine and pressed them at Bucky.  He took them, check them, and raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“I’m a rich bitch, but not dumb.  Steve, I think they just pulled up.”</p><p>“I’m armed, Tony’s gun, but there’s a half-dozen of these bastards,” Bucky said tightly.</p><p>“Look, I just got into Stane’s phone, and all you were trying to do, Tony, got him mad.  He came up here to, ya know, so I gave him a quick world tour.  He was too out of it, but after what you said Tony, he shouldn’t have even tried it, not with the locks on the elevator.  And this wasn’t the first time.  He tried in Afghanistan, but you survived.”</p><p>Bucky stared at the phone, blood pressure rising.  The too-neat ambush.  The fact that the ambushers were armed with Stark weapons.  Tony’s mention about Stane dealing weapons under the table.  It made too much sense.</p><p>“Steve, you already called the cops?”</p><p>“For what good that’ll do me, yeah.  But somehow I don’t think they’re gonna show up there in time.  Wait.  JARVIS?  Help Tony, I’m gonna see if I can get Stane to call off his dogs.  If either of you die, I’ll kill you myself.”</p><p>“Steve!”</p><p>“Sirs, if you hide yourselves, I will take control of the lights and doors,” JARVIS’ voice said smoothly.</p><p>“What the hell is Steve doing?” Tony hissed as him and Bucky pressed themselves into an alcove made of crates.</p><p>“Probably tying Stane up and torturing him,” Bucky muttered.  Tony looked at him sideways.  “The kinky bastard’s a switch, and he can be a sadist if he has to.”</p><p>“How the fuck is he going to overpower Obi?”</p><p>“Steve’s sucked your dick before, right?”</p><p>Tony paused and realized Bucky was absolutely right.</p><p>“So we have to fend these guys off until Steve gets Obi to make the call.  Sure.  No problem.”</p><p>“You said the arm can deflect bullets, right?” Bucky said, angling it across his body and hoping to hell his reflexes were good enough to put thought into action.</p><p>“Yeah, but I haven’t exactly given it a field test yet!” Tony protested, blinking hard.  He was going pale and fighting it, Bucky could see how hard he was struggling to hold on against the press of memory and anticipation of another dose of too-potent fear.</p><p>He wouldn’t let it happen.  Not today.  Not to him.</p><p>“Steve, if you die I swear I will kill you myself,” Bucky muttered, drawing a tiny, brittle laugh out of Tony.  They kept hidden in the darkest corner of the clinic, both trying to breathe as quietly as possible.  Between the weak cell signals and the fact that clinic was barely set up, there was little else JARVIS could do for them but keep them in the dark and keep the doors shut.  A light flickered on Tony’s phone, and suddenly they could see the security camera feeds.  The mercenaries were deployed around the clinic, covering every exit and window, apparently waiting for some signal before breeching the place.  How Stane was planning on covering up a professional hit Bucky had no idea, but apparently desperate times called for murderous measures.</p><p>Thirty seconds later, the lead merc put a hand to his ear, frowned, and made a sign for everyone to retreat.  Another thirty seconds and their car was gone.  No need to kill today.  No guns.  No explosions.  No need to do that again.</p><p>Tony suddenly laughed loud enough to startle Bucky, and held out his phone with hands that shook with mirth, color back in his cheeks.</p><p>“Never underestimate the power of an artist.”</p><p>Tony held out his phone with a picture of Obi, mostly naked, hands tied behind his back, looking like he was kissing someone’s shoes.  Bucky’s eyebrows went up and stayed up.</p><p><i>Steve: I’ll delete all of them from being timed to be splashed across every social media page in existence once you screw him legally.  We’re not going to be dicks about this.</i> </p><p>“Well, maybe just a bit,” Tony pointed out.  Bucky’s return smile was feral.</p><p>--</p><p>Steve flipped through the second page of charges and whistled in amazement.  Between the illegal weapons sales, attempted kidnapping, attempted murder, an extensive list of business corruption charges, and treason as the cherry on top, Obidiah Stane was snug in a maximum-security prison (and completely out of Stark Industries and his ill-gotten illegal cash).</p><p>“You bring the sweetest things to date night,” Bucky said to Tony, who was still sitting a little nervously on the bed.</p><p>“Well, I wanted to bring something meaningful.”</p><p>Steve laughed, tossed the papers over his shoulders, and threw himself across Bucky and Tony’s laps simultaneously.  “Well, thank you for that.  But let’s try something more fun now.”</p><p>“Like you?” Tony suggested, pinking a little.  Bucky smiled; Tony had actually navigated more threesomes than they had, but it was different when it was this, people you cared about, and not just an erotic exercise.</p><p>“I’m very fun to try,” Steve said agreeably.</p><p>“And very trying,” Bucky said, and dropped his legs, making Steve slide to his knees in front of Tony.  “Better give him something to occupy his mouth, Tony, or he’ll talk us both into dealing with him forever.”</p><p>Tony laughed as he lifted Steve in his arms and kissed him, reaching out to pull Bucky against them both.  “I wouldn’t mind that at all,” Tony said, as Bucky wrapped his metal arm around him and his flesh arm around Steve, all of them safe and home together.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warning Explanations: While there is some dubious consent in this fic, it is not between our three principle characters, and it is not overly graphic.  There are a couple instances of someone pressuring the other for sexual favors.  There are a few instances of someone trying to trigger someone else's PTSD.</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464126">ART: We're the Ones (Who're Taking You Home)</a> by Anonymous
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